To the Night Sky
by Ranowa Hikura
Summary: They tell him he lost his mind. He doesn't remember anything else, so he believes them. But if that's the case, then why does he sometimes feel like he doesn't belong here... and neither does that little, annoying, blond kid named Ed? Parental RoyEd, not traditional amnesia fic.
1. Chapter 1

Well... in hopes the site's email notification system actually _worked_ for once this week, and you got the email about this...

Welcome. Welcome, at least, to my Parental RoyEd angst monster. I've been awkwardly teasing this for _over a year-_ but now, it's finally time! There shall be angst, general misery, all around sadness, and also parental fluff and hugs, to sweeten the pot :) Enjoy teh angsting! Also, importantly: no matter what it may seem like in the first one or two chapters, this is not an AU fic, or an amnesia fic. This takes place within canon, some time after Ed's become a State Alchemist. Oh, and Hughes is alive, because honestly it's me what did you even expect? Anyway! Hopefully, this'll update every Friday and Tuesday. We shall see. If an update doesn't come for some reason, check the bottom of my profile; explanation should be there.

And now- WE'RE OFF! I sincerely hope you all enjoy! :D

* * *

When he first woke up, he didn't know where he was.

There was blinding white, all around him. Thin, scratchy sheets tucked too tightly about his waist; a lumpy mattress at his back. Crook of his elbow aching, the thick needle of a medicine drip inserted underneath his skin there, and surely responsible for the fuzz that dominated his mind. White. All around. White.

He stared at it blearily, struggling to process it. Hospital. Hospital? But why? He'd been injured? He didn't feel injured. He didn't recall it, either. But he must've been, if he was here. His back... oh. His back hurt. It _hurt._ But not... He tried searching his memory for a moment, then nearly instantly gave up, set adrift by the blurry mess that greeted him when so much as tried to remember what he'd had for breakfast. He turned weakly instead, gaze roaming about the room. No Hawkeye.

His instincts tingled, warning him quietly. Not good. The way he felt now, he wouldn't be able to so much as defend himself against a cockroach, never mind a credible threat. And his gloves... where were his gloves?

Thinking after his gloves made his head pound, though, and somehow, he got the feeling that even if they were on his hands, he wouldn't have the mental fortitude to even try to defend himself, not unless he wanted to risk burning himself alive. His gloves... no...

 _Where's Hawkeye?_

A low creak told him the door to his room had opened. He flinched a little at the noise, but actually turning his head after it was another matter; by the turn he'd sluggishly managed it, the nurse was already at his side, smiling sympathetically down at him as she started fiddling with his IV.

He winced again, tongue like lead as he tried to find the words.

"Whas... what happened to... me...?"

The pat to his arm was far too patronizing to be acceptable, but he didn't have the words to say so. "Oh, you had a relapse, dear," she told him warmly, rather like she was speaking to a child, and he winced again.

Relapse? What? Groaning, he fuzzily shifted again, fighting to clear his mind through the fog. Didn't matter... he'd find out sooner or later. "H... Hawkeye." He cleared his throat, struggling. "Lieutenant Hawkeye. C-call... her..." In this state, he needed his aide and bodyguard by his side. Whomever it was that had put him here could come back; she had to be back hurt. "T-tell her... C-Colonel Must...ang..."

That made her stop. She blinked down at him, mouth quirking. Her eyes looked almost fondly amused, and the pat to his arm- patronizing again, like she was rebuking a young child who didn't know better. "Oh, Roy," she lectured sternly, "you're not a colonel. You're not in the military." She patted him again, that sickening, sweet smile making another appearance.

If he hadn't been so drugged, he might've shouted at her. They'd mistaken him for a _civilian?_ Someone's head was going to roll for this. "Lieutenant. Hawkeye," he stressed again, lacking the strength for more than that. His head sagged back onto the pillow, vision losing focus. "C-call..."

And the nurse just patted his arm again and sighed.

"I'll talk to the doctor. We'll fix your medicine, and having you feeling better in no time at all, Roy," she told him, and, just as she'd entered, breezily floating into his sloshing vision and fogged mind, she left it, so quietly she might've never been there at all.

His eyelids started to drag shut, no matter how stridently he tried to tell himself he needed to stand and make it to a phone. A more intelligent nurse. _Anything._ But his limbs felt like lead and his head surely weighed down, anything more taxing than letting himself drift off into a haze of drugs again utterly beyond him.

The last thing he saw, just before the haze claimed him, was his hand.

His right arm was draped carelessly over his chest, numb fingers splayed on the blankets. Around his wrist was a vaguely familiar, plastic white bracelet that identified him as an unwilling prisoner to medical care, and he scowled vaguely at it, for a moment disliking it even more than the IV tethering him to the bed.

By the time his vision had focused enough to read it, he was almost too far gone to care. Almost.

 _Mustang, R. Central Hospital_

 _DOB: Blah fucking blah. Blah numbers blah. Blah hospital codes blah. Blah._

 _Psychiatric Ward_

He slept again.

* * *

Next time he came to, the nurse was already there, futzing with his arm and smiling sweetly still. His back still hurt. He spoke before he knew why, instincts commanding his tongue while his conscious mind fell slack and helpless. "Call- call Lieutenant-..."

Lieutenant...

His throat went dry, and he swallowed, suddenly unsure.

 _Lieutenant...?_

He struggled to find the words, but they just weren't there. It all felt miserably blank. There _was_ a lieutenant. A very important one. One that needed to be told... something. Something that he... wasn't sure what... but he knew it was important. He had to remember. "Call..."

His voice failed him again, and he stared distantly at the ceiling, fuzzed mind going empty.

The nurse was saying something, leaning over him. He blinked; made an exhausted effort to focus.

"...no lieutenant, Roy. Here you are." She held up something small and utterly blurry; he didn't have the slightest clue how to focus on her or will up the strength to speak again. "Take this. You'll feel better."

Better? _Better?_

Before he'd realized he'd wished it, his hand had jerked into the air, smacking the nurse and her hand and her pill away. _"Call my lieutenant!"_ he snarled. A desperate spasm took him and he grabbed her by the front of her shirt, yanking her down to his eye level. _"Call her!"_

He didn't remember who she was, but he did know that he wanted- _needed-_ her here.

He didn't remember...

" _CALL HER!"_ he shouted again, gasping until panic nearly choked him dead. _"Call my lieutenant!"_

Out of the blurred haze that surrounded him came men, men who knocked him back and held him down like he'd done something wrong. He shouted at them, what he couldn't say, thrashing to free himself from their grips but he was pinned down like a bird with broken wings, not even the freedom to move an inch. He shouted again. Screaming _lieutenant! Lieutenant, help me! Let me go, it's a mistake- LIEUTENANT!_

The haze of the drugs came back, and pulled him under.

"Lieuten... ant..."

His lieutenant never came.

* * *

The next time the nurse was there, holding out a handful of pills for him to take, he silently took them.

He knew someone else was supposed to be there.

He knew something about this was not right.

But his mind was fogged, and he was too tired, and before he could ever try to remember, he fell under again.

* * *

There became a schedule.

He was never let to leave the room; became very well acquainted with those four cramped white walls and the cold bed. He tried, once. Fighting past the drugs, he stumbled to the floor and crawled to the door, but it was locked, and there was nowhere to go.

When the nurse found him, he was lectured and chastised, again not like a man but a small child. He didn't remember being put back in the bed and left like a prisoner. He did remember the door locking behind her, when the nurse left, and he was alone again.

Little white pills in the morning. Little green pills at night. So many he forgot there was a taste in the world aside from acrid, acidic medicine. In in the interim he faded, awake but not. He heard things. _There's no lieutenant,_ he heard when he moaned aloud; didn't realize he'd moaned a name until they told him so. _You're very sick,_ they told him when he tried to insist he didn't belong here and that he wasn't ill. Heard words like _mentally unstable, breakdown,_ and _schizophrenia_ when he tried to protest; _doesn't know what he's saying._ A _You'll feel better soon,_ when they fed him the pills. After the pills, he slept.

He dreamed of fire, against a blue, blue sky.

He didn't know why.

* * *

Finally, the day came when he felt a little less gone.

He still felt as woozy and dead as a tranquilized horse. Boneless and drained, body weighed down like lead while his soul climbed, wishing to float away. But when the nurse came, and he obediently swallowed the little white pills, instead of being treated to a shoulder pat and a swiftly turned back as she locked him in again, she smiled at him instead, and said, "How would you like to get up today, Roy?"

He blinked dully. His tongue and mouth were decidedly uncooperative, and he kept silent.

Up? Get up? Get up where? There was somewhere beyond this room?

He must've forgotten to answer, because before he'd figured out how to wrap his mind around that, he found himself being tilted to sit up, then guided to the floor. His knees tried to buckle at first and his head swam. For a very long while, it looked as if the cold white tiles were going to become his new pillow... but finally, his legs remembered their purpose. He wavered on his feet, perhaps utterly relieved; he vaguely recalled something about lacking the strength to do anything but crawl before, so standing felt nice. He smiled dully, padding around and testing his feet. He could stand again.

There were more blurred words that he barely heard as the nurse took his arm again, a little too firmly to just be offering support should he fall. He caught something about _give you a tour,_ and _psych ward,_ and _in for a long stay here,_ but was still too horribly clouded to know what the words meant and had forgotten how to question it, anyway. He followed obediently, letting her tug him outside of the little room, and show him his new world.

He didn't remember much of what she said. Lots of rules and restrictions. He couldn't go there or do this. Couldn't say this or try that. Very strictly controlled. Very stringently regulated. It all flew over his head, and he hummed contentedly, too pleased to be allowed to move again and mind still to fuzzed to care.

He remembered more of what he saw. Very few other nurses, maybe one or two. Very small. The whitewashed hospital ward was stiff and cramped, even if when he blinked sometimes it felt massive to him, after so long in that little room. Many doors, but all shut and locked to him, none where he was allowed to go.

Something weighed hauntingly on his tongue.

 _You're not allowed to tell me where I may or may not go. You have no right to give me orders. I have authority- respect my uniform- respect me-..._

Then the train of thought was gone, derailed and lost off the edge of a cliff. He nodded weakly, head bobbing, and was led away again.

There was a couch. The nurse was gone. He blinked fuzzily, and sat on it. It was nice to be able to stand again, but he was tired now, and even as stiff and lumpy as it was, it'd be... it'd be...

Comfortable? Was that the word? Comfortable-

What would be comfortable?

He shook his head slowly, long ago given up on clearing it, and sank backwards, allowing his mind to drift.

* * *

There was a boy.

A boy, standing there. A blurry, fuzzy boy.

He might've been there for a while. Sense of time was just one of those things that was lost to him, nowadays. He got the feeling the boy had been standing there for some time, and he'd _seen_ him, just... not really, actually, seen him... until now. His mouth, dry, and his tongue still leaden, it took him a few seconds, minutes? past realizing him at all to acknowledge him.

"Hello," he said.

The boy, the fuzzy, blurry boy just looked at him. Perhaps for a long while, perhaps not. "You're here, too..." he thought he heard, and then, suddenly the boy was next to him, sitting down on the stiff, lumpy couch and staring at him with golden eyes that pierced straight through the drugged haze to leave him vulnerable; bare. "Do you know why you're here?" the boy asked carefully, slowly and determinedly enunciating.

Once again, it took him a moment to realize the question should receive a response. Licking his lips, he started to tilt his head in a shake, then giggled when that made the room spin, spin so fast the colors danced and the boy became a yellow blur. "Mmm... no." He raised a hand, trying to gesture, but the limb didn't even feel apart of him and he turned his gaze away, watching fingers that surely could not be his wiggle in the air. "They said... said..."

What'd they say? He hunted for the word, though it felt like sinking through mud. What had they said? They'd...

"...crazy," he finished at last, hand dropping in disappointment. That wasn't the word they'd used. They'd used fancy scientific word. Some name of some ailment; some condition. Something far more accurate and descriptive than just off-brand crazy. But he couldn't remember.

Just like everything else- he couldn't remember.

"Crazy," he said again, and started to shut his eyes.

He'd nearly slept, again, when the boy wrenched his head back and made him stare.

"Hey," the boy snapped. Fierce, golden eyes bored through him again, golden eyes with all the focus and power of the sun. One hand gripped him hard on the shoulder, and he blinked, staring.

One arm. Just one arm.

Then he blinked again, and realized the leg straddling him was just that- the one leg, too.

Just one arm, and just one leg.

He laughed fuzzily.

 _Heh..._

 _You really are crazy._

" _Hey,"_ the boy snapped again, shaking him hard. "You're not crazy."

He blinked again. Sighed.

"Okay," he mumbled tiredly.

The boy watched him still.

Then, a little while later, he realized that the boy was gone, and he was left alone to sit, stare, and drift on the couch once again.

Before long, he forgot there'd ever been a boy there at all.

* * *

The routine was left the same for the rest of the day. There was lunch, food items that he could not, for the life of him, remember, but it had been a ridiculous chore to eat, when his hands were numb and he couldn't taste a thing, and then more sitting on the couch, sitting and staring and drifting. He didn't even realize he'd been pulled back to his feet until a while after it had already happened, the nurse's hand again at his elbow. Back to his little tiny white room. Another handful of green pills. Another sickly sweet smile as the lights were flicked out and he heard the woman bade him a good night. He watched her leave, eyelids already drooping shut. The green ones made him tired, and he sighed sadly, watching the colors and spots dance until he was pulled under again, and the colors and spots became flames.

* * *

The routine was left much the same again. White pills given alongside breakfast, some citrusy fruit juice that made his tongue curl, and then the nurse was gone again- but the door, left open.

He frowned at it.

Was he supposed to get up and leave again? He supposed he'd been told, if not. But his head... oh his poor, muddled, nonexistent head. He didn't want to be moving. Lying here was nice, too. To lie here and drift was nicer than stumbling around and drifting. Yes. To lie here and drift... that was all he wanted.

So that was what he did.

He did just that, until the door to his room opened again, and brought with it...

Oh. That boy from yesterday.

Oh, yes. Him.

For the first time, a break in the routine.

Fierce like he remembered, the boy pushed himself forward, wheelchair squeaking horribly loud over the tiled floors until he was close enough to grab the edge of the bed and yank himself up onto it. The mattress creaked and strained in protest as he was crawled towards, and he yawned blearily, simply without it in him to wonder or question as-

"H-hey!" A violent cough was torn out and he reeled away from the intrusive hand, struggling without strength to cast them away from his throat. "S- stop-"

His tender throat was violently rubbed again, no heed taken for his coughs or protests as his air supply was cut off and his windpipe squeezed, then the hand was jerked back and shoved straight into his mouth. It groped around, pulling, scratching, it was _terrifying; h_ e tried to fight it but, so drugged as he was, found himself helpless to do little beyond flail, gasp, and panic.

The abuse of his weak neck muscles finally left his gag reflex on overdrive. He coughed and doubled over, stomach heaving, already tasting acidic bile. Fuck, he was going to choke on his sick- "Let me g-g- _go-"_

The boy was gone, just in time for him to vomit hard on to the floor.

His throat hurt. Hist stomach hurt. Fuck, even his head hurt. It took minutes for him to stop heaving and his breaths to come back to him, and when he did, he felt even more lost and out of his mind than before.

No boy in a wheelchair was there. No strangely limbed, oddly crippled boy was there on his bed, choking him out for reasons unable to be discerned. There was just him, his aching throat, and his own sick on the floor.

Slowly, he raised a shaking hand to touch his sore neck. He brushed it over the spots where he still felt as if he'd been grabbed, and his breath caught a little in his throat, still tender and hesitant after nearly suffocating.

God damn, he really was out of his mind.

Too drained, disbelieving, and sickly miserable to hunt down that couch after all, he flopped back down onto his stomach, burying his head at in the sheets at the foot of the bed, and closed his eyes again. He wrapped his arms around himself, and patiently waited for that damnable nurse to come find him again, drug him senseless, and look at him like a pitiful pet to be euthanized instead of a human being- a sloshed, drugged, crazy one, but still a _human being-_ locked in his own head.

His mind still spun with the pleasant buzz of medication, and he left his eyes shut, waiting for it to do its dues, and take him back under, where the crazy men slept and the crazy men died.

* * *

He knew something was different the instant he woke up.

Because he actually _woke up._

He opened his eyes, and there. In perfect clarity. The metal foot of the bed. There. A bundle of pale blue blankets he'd scrunched up into some kind of pillow. So close he could see the stitching- but for the first time that he could ever remember, his vision held true. The blankets didn't blur into a seamless, colorful mass, nor did they spiral into such detail he could only be hallucinating. His vision was clear, and while his head pulsed with the mother of all migraines, and the lights in little prison-esque room drove knives through his eye and his breath caught as it became a groan-

He was _awake._

Hardly daring to believe, certainly not daring to understand, he cautiously worked his hands underneath him, bringing himself up to sit. His word tilted threateningly, stomach clenching in nausea, but, but- it was so _different_ than before. Before his whole existence had swam and he'd not felt sick simply because he'd been too light, feather light, to remember what being sick even was, but now... he was dreadfully ill and he felt it.

After days, weeks, months? Spend traversing that drugged haze where he'd not felt anything at all, this migraine, this nauseous twist to his stomach, his dry mouth, his aching throat- oh, how he _relished_ it.

Because he was not drugged anymore.

Hesitantly, he tilted over the bed, eyes widening when he saw the remains of him getting sick over the side of the bed. So... it hadn't been a dream, then. He touched his sore throat again, fingers trembling, then pulled his pale hand to stare at it, for the first time feeling his fingers and his hand and his _arm_ and- it had just been so long since he'd been able to feel like a dammed human being again-

What the hell had _happened?_

The memory flickered through his mind again, of that strange, crippled boy throwing himself on him, and choking him until he vomited, and his eyes widened.

He'd thrown it up.

Whatever the fucking nurse had been giving him to keep him so malleable, docile, submissive, doped, half-dead...

He'd thrown it up.

A very long moment passed, so stunned he did not know whether he wanted to laugh or whoop in victory.

It was unbelievable. It was nearly unreal. This was, then, the most clear-headed he'd been since... since he'd woken up in this room, at least. He remembered nothing from before it. For a moment fear awakened in his breast, and he swallowed, pulling back against the head of the bed and withdrawing himself, almost as if waiting for something to snap. Because something _should_ snap, shouldn't it? There was _something_ very wrong with him. He remembered nothing- that wasn't right, that wasn't normal. They told him he'd snapped, had a breakdown, done something horrible enough to land him in a mental hospital of all places, if only he could just _fucking_ remember what he'd done so he could apologize for it-

But that strange kid had made him upheave all those horrid medications they kept drowning out his mind with. Those horrid medications that they'd told him were all were keeping him sane. No self respecting, functioning human being had to be drugged up past the eyeballs just to _exist,_ but he was supposed to, because...

He didn't remember what happened if he wasn't.

But they told him it was bad.

They told him he was crazy.

He waited, the only sound in that small room his nervous, shaky breaths, in and out, in and out, for _something_ to happen.

Nothing did.

At last, he decided that rather than wait to snap, he was going to brave the outside world once again, and take advantage of what might be his one moment of lucidity ever again. He tottered unsteadily to his feet to veer towards the door, to find that amazing boy, and figure just exactly why he'd reached into that mire of murky sedation and dragged him right back out again.

Out in the hall he crept, everything suddenly too loud and bright to him when he'd spent so long swallowed up by a swamp. The floor felt freezing beneath his feet, his legs sore and shaky like he hadn't actually _used_ them since waking up in that room. He coughed and hung his head, letting ragged, dark hair fall over his eyes, suddenly self-conscious, and let himself stumble off down the hallway without particularly trying to correct it.

Something told him it wasn't a great idea, to let that dammable nurse find him and realize he spit up her fucking sedative.

He swayed down the corridor, only half acting as his weak legs took him towards where he'd first seen that boy. That shabby sort of common area in a tiny locked ward meant for long term patients, the couches and chairs that implied he was far from the only person held here, but it was empty, just as empty as the day before- except.

There he was.

In that couch he himself had vacated, just yesterday-

There was that boy.

Two gold eyes watched him darkly from behind tangled bangs, and somehow, he got the feeling the boy had been waiting for him for a while.

The stare nearly shocked the breath from him again. He stood frozen, tottering on his feet, and only vaguely remembered to pull himself together because, surely, he was more than this. Slowly, he approached the child, staring down at him without not so much as a clue what to do or say.

The kid smirked. "Feeling better?" he drawled quietly, voice a hushed sort of a whisper, the mischievous light in his eyes saying that he knew, full well, that he _was_ feeling better.

He swallowed. "Why did you..." What? Help him? He still wasn't so sure he'd been helped at all. Attacked him? Wasn't sure if that was it, either- at least, the boy didn't see it that way. But then... "...do that?" he finished lamely at last, and found himself sinking exhaustedly to just sit across from him, a boneless and shocked shell of the man he might once have been.

All he got in answer was another smirk. "Because there was no one there to do it for me," he murmured, as if _that_ vague sort of clarification sorted out anything, then cleared his throat. "What's your name?"

He hesitated. "...Roy." He said it because that was what they called him, not because he actually _knew._ And there was something very unsettling about that- not even knowing his own name. He raised his arm, the one with the plastic bracelet, and tilted it, the only reason he knew anything beyond that one syllable, strange sounding sort of thing. "Roy Mustang. ...I think. You?"

The kid grinned again, a fierce and bright sort of thing, so much brilliance it was almost blinding to see it here, in this grey and white prison, and stuck out his one hand for him to shake.

"Roy, huh? Well. Roy. Welcome to hell- it's nice to finally have some company." He smirked once more, and again there was something dangerous in those eyes as he wiggled his fingers for him to shake his hand. "I'm Ed."


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you all so much for reviewing! The site's email system is still a wacky mess on my end; I got a good thirty percent of the notifications for this fic, I think, but I'm making sure to read everything you guys are leaving for me! On that note, however, I'd try not relying solely on an email for when this fic updates for now, just because the system is such a disaster. I missed an update email just last night.

Anyways- hope you all enjoy this one! This chapter isn't one of my favorites, to be honest; I tried to put all this plot stuff in one update though so I could charge on ahead to the scenes with parental feelings, which is what we're all here for, after all! I promise, parentalness'll arrive in chapter 3! :)

* * *

It was a curious thing, to be so numb and surprised he didn't have anything to say. It did still feel miles better than the alternative he'd had lately, so drugged he didn't remember how to speak or what words even were, but the outcome was the same- before he could fully wrap his mind around a damn thing, he was being spoken to again, so quickly it was all he could do to just keep up.

"-so you gotta be careful," Ed was lecturing, voice hushed under his breath still like it was a dark secret. It probably was. "You have to still _act_ sedated, you know? Otherwise they'll catch on pretty quick. But," he shrugged, "it's nothing. Just stay quiet and avoid the nurses, you'll be fine."

Roy blinked again, relatively sure that nothing at all about this situation was _fine..._ but once again, before he could so much as comment, Ed was at it again.

"It's the third pill in the morning that you have to skip. Little white square. And the second one at night; that's a green, like, oval-shape... although that one's more of a sleeping pill, not a sedative, and there's not much to do at night _besides_ sleep, but I like doing it under my own power, you know?" Ed waved his hand again, approximating at a gesture, features still stretched into a wry grin.

Roy stared blankly.

At last, he managed, so eloquently:

"You're very noisy."

Ed snorted at him, flopping back languorously over the couch like he owned the thing. "Sorry," he lipped, not sounding very sorry at all. "Haven't had any company in... I don't know. Five weeks? Six weeks?" He shrugged helplessly. "Ever since I woke up here, anyway. So it's just nice to finally have someone to talk to."

Then, once again, without giving him much of a chance to question to press him on anything, the kid continued, voice only barely hushed enough to not attract attention from any wandering, snooping nurses. "Anyway, you have to be smart about it. Only hide the sedative; if you try and hide them all it's too obvious. I, um... kinda figured that out the hard way." He shifted, gaze suddenly leaving his to search about the cold room for eavesdroppers, shoulders rising with the slightest hint of tension and smile falling. "And you can't be an idiot about hiding them, either," he continued, though still not looking at him. "I normally shove them under here." He tapped the couch cushion with his knee, but it was a tired, distracted sort of thing, all of his concentration averted as his gaze continued to drift suspiciously around the room, searching, half-alarmed, as if he was just waiting for someone to pop out at him in any given moment.

It was highly unsettling, to say the least. The back of Roy's neck started to itch as if he was being watched.

Nonplussed, Roy just stared at him, completely and utterly thrown. He wondered if the effects of the sedative hadn't worn entirely off yet, or if this really just didn't make any sense whatsoever. "I- um... okay," he managed at last, blinking. "So... is there actually, I don't know, a _reason_ I should be listening to you? Or..."

Ed stiffened, blinking at him in a jolt of surprised confusion. He looked so taken aback Roy might as well have just sprouted wings and flown- and considering the circumstances, he supposed that might've even been what the kid was seeing. "I- what?" he stuttered, gaping. "You _liked_ wandering around all drugged up?" He pointed angrily at him, jabbing one finger on his one hand so hard Roy wondered if he'd wind up with a bruise. "You know, Roy, yesterday, you were a mess. You were staring at me for ten minutes before you even realized I was talking to you. If not for me you'd probably be facedown on the floor somewhere right now."

He winced, both at the fuzzy memory and the accurate prediction, raising a hand in a miserable attempt to rub away his aching head and the confusion. "That's not what I meant. Of course I feel better now, but- well, they're giving us those pills for a _reason,_ kid. I'm pretty sure if we ever want to get out of here, then not taking them-"

"Hey, what's wrong with you?" Ed prodded him again, hard, and looked almost like he wanted to slap some sense into him; as drained as Roy felt, he was glad when the aggravation only manifested itself in another violent poke. "I told you yesterday. You're not crazy. Neither of us are. Look, you've been off that shit for a couple hours now, and you're still _fine._ The only thing that was keeping you crazy was the pills they kept shoving down your throat- you're off them now, and you're fine-"

Roy frowned, listening as the kid tried to press his point and didn't really succeed. Sure, he did feel miles better _now-_ but it had only been what, three hours? Who was to say he wouldn't snap later tonight, and...

Well, he didn't know, really, what would happen then, given that he still couldn't remember a damn thing, but he imagined it wouldn't be pretty.

"Listen," he interrupted at last, waving a hand to try and stop the increasingly insistent ramblings. "Are you actually thinking about you're saying? Why would the _hospital_ be the one making us sick? That's insane! You're crazy-..." He trailed off with a weak grin when he'd realized what he said, but Ed was decidedly unimpressed.

"Yeah. And you're a dick." Ed glanced around the room again, keeping a close eye out for any nearby nurses or others who could screw up this little clandestine conversation not under the influence. "Come on, use your head. You don't remember anything at all, right? Anything before you woke up here?"

"I'm just saying- ...how... how did you know that?"

"Because I don't, either." Ed glared fiercely again, bright eyes leaving his own to search around the room for some other target for his anger, one hand clenching in his lap. "And I know it's because of something they're doing to me. ...Before... before, when I had to figure out which one of those damn pills was the sedative... I just had to go with trial and error. Skipping random pills until I found the right one." He hesitated, gaze leaving him again as he curled a little over on himself, chewing on his bottom lip. "One of them is some sort of memory block. When I quit taking it, I... well, I don't really know _what_ I remembered, but I remembered _something,_ Roy. That wouldn't have happened if that was just medicine because we were sick."

Roy hesitated, watching the strange teen with a sense of unease that he couldn't really place. He hadn't given his missing memory much thought, truly- just for as long as he could remember, he'd been here, and that was that. Quite obviously there was an enormous block missing. He was a grown man yet only had memories for the past... what, two weeks? Obviously something was wrong.

But the nurses had never seemed concerned and, well, quite honestly, he'd just been too damn _drugged_ until now to worry.

"One of those drugs they give me... is a memory block?" He touched his head wonderingly, mind suddenly spinning. Hmm...

Suddenly, though, Ed's finger was waggling in his face, and those fierce eyes were on his again. "Nope. Nu uh. I ain't telling you, Roy." He sat back with an intense glower, something subtly dangerous in that stare. "It's dangerous."

"What are you talking about, dangerous?" He barely forced his voice to remain quiet, suddenly desperately eager, ravenous for memories that he didn't have. "How can it be dangerous? Ed, I'd just-"

"I'm not telling you which one it is. So don't ask." Ed hesitated again, breaking his gaze for the first time, the steady confidence he'd laid claim to this whole conversation devolving into something less self-assured... more... almost nervous. His shoulders slumped, teeth sinking deep into his lower lip. "It's just- it's not that simple, okay? It wasn't like I skipped the pill and suddenly could remember everything. It wasn't... I'm just not telling you."

It was a lame ending if he'd ever heard one, and Roy glowered darkly, the dodge poking at his irritation and stroking it wide awake. "But-"

" _Nope,"_ the kid stressed irritably, mouth set, and sat back with a stubborn huff as if that was the end of it. "All right. Listen, it's great you came along, now I have a partner to help me out. We've got to get out of here, Roy. And you're going to help me." He waved his one hand like it was obvious, already lunging into his lecture out of nowhere, like it was just the next logical place for this conversation to go. "I've been thinking a little, and our best bet is if we trick one of the nurses into-"

"Woah. Woah, woah. Wait, stop, wait a minute." Roy sent another cautious glance around as he lowered his voice and waved for him to stop, wide-eyed. "Wait a minute- when did I agree to this?! I- just wait, damn it..." He scrubbed a hand over his face in disbelief, wondering how on earth his life had gotten stuck on this tailspin. "I'm not _going anywhere._ I don't... Ed, I don't know what you're thinking, exactly, but I'm not about to break out of a hospital just because you think- what? The doctors are evil masterminds who kidnapped us for the evil plan of- of kidnapping us?" He smirked, rolling his eyes. "It may not be the greatest place in the world to be, but that hardly means anything, Ed. Somehow, I don't think we're here for a nice tropical vacation."

Ed, predictably, was not very impressed with his response.

His eyes bored into him with an angry sort of fire, fist clenched and shoulders hunched. He glared angrily, tense with distress now that he'd discovered his new, fellow patient was not about to join his plot to break out of the hospital. Several moments ticked by in silence, passed through just with little Ed just glaring at him in a stubborn, silent challenge, as if trying to force him to change his mind through force of will alone. When it became clear that wasn't going to work, Ed just threw his arm over the couch, stretching himself out in a show of getting comfortable, mouth slipping into a sour grimace of his own. "You know what? Fine. Fine. Don't listen to me. 'S not like you've got anyone _else_ to listen to- but fine. Ignore me. But- just don't say I never warned you."

God, he had not had near enough sleep for this. "Warned me about _what,_ for god's sake?"

Ed smirked again, looking vaguely smug about something, but just what that could be, Roy had no idea. "What do you think goes on here, exactly, Roy? That it's all group therapy and- and crayons?" He reached for a nearby table, lifting up what was, in fact, a couple of crayons, and wriggled them in his face. "No. The shit they do here _sucks,_ Roy. They call it treatments, medicine, whatever, but it's _not._ It's dangerous and miserable and you'll fucking _hate it_. They're not helping you. But I guess I'll just let you figure that out for yourself." He glared again, poking at his cheek with one of the crayons with an amazingly irritating smirk. "If they do the same with you that they did me, they'll give you a couple days to wonder around, enjoy yourself, before you get to enjoy their _treatments._ So, hey, what do I care?" He shrugged again, beaming smugly now. "You'll see. You'll see for yourself, soon enough."

Roy glared darkly, becoming only more and more convinced the longer this conversation went on he was not going to like his fellow patient. Ed was still stubbornly glaring, meanwhile, radiating annoyance, and, with a sigh, he plucked the red crayon out from the air, away from his face. "And why," he snapped, waggling it back at him, "pray tell, do we have these?"

Ed scowled at it, tossing the rest back onto the table. "Apparently, no pencils or pens allowed. I asked- I could make some shitty sort of knife out of them. No sharp objects."

Well- all right, Roy could agree with his aggravation on that one. What did the doctors think he'd do if given a pencil- stab one of them with it, or slice his own wrists? Damn. Surely he was not _that_ crazy. But given that he remembered... well, _nothing..._ including whatever obviously horrible thing he'd done, to end up here in the first place... who was he to say? Hell, given that he'd ended up on a locked mental ward, Roy guessed he actually might not be that far off the mark. "Okay," he muttered reluctantly, glancing down at the flaky, half smushed child's crayon in his hand. "So, that's what we've got to do for fun around here? Draw with crayons?"

"Hey, you were the one whining about this not being a vacation. Like you said, we're in a crazy hospital. The purpose isn't to have fun." He kicked his leg up with another smirk, and Roy decided he made a very, very strange picture- one leg and arm, hospital clothes, as casual as could be. His long, messy hair half obscured his face, his fierce eyes, and for a moment, Roy actually could've been fooled into thinking he was on a vacation after all.

"What are you-"

"Hey, hush. _Shhhh shh. Shh."_

Ed's voice was suddenly urgent, a low whisper under his breath that lacked all previous levity and rang with worry. Roy obediently shut his mouth, alerted far more by the tone of voice than what he'd said- and sure enough, only a moment later, found the reason Ed had suddenly started to shush him.

One of the nurses, all bright smiles and cheerful eyes, was walking towards them.

She reached them with another smile, and Roy cast a surreptitious look towards Ed to see his eyes had suddenly dulled, shoulders slumped downwards, mouth tilted into a sleepy frown in a dead on impersonation of a sedated haze. It looked to be something he'd had a lot of practice pulling off, and Roy found himself wondering just how long Ed had been here for.

And how long was _he_ going to be here for?

"Good morning, Edward!" the woman chirped, in such a manner that Roy instantly disliked her. She gave him a too bright smile as well and he winced a little, trying to return a sleepy one of his own even as she refocused her attention on the kid next to him, still almost infectiously cheerful. "How are we doing today?"

Ed shrugged and mumbled something incoherent. Based off his- rather limited- experience with the boy, Roy imagined it was a mix of expletives and insults. The nurse, ignorant to his whining, gave them both another smile, then held out a hand to Ed. "Come along, now. It's time for treatment."

Roy wasn't sure... Ed was still doing a bang up job at impersonating a dazed, sleepy shell. But he _thought_ he saw his shoulders tense, just a fraction, and for just a heartbeat, his eyes darkened in silent resistance and fear.

And then, it was gone.

"Okay," the kid mumbled dully, stumbling upright to his feet- well, foot. He hopped unsteadily over to the nearby wheelchair and dropped into it gracelessly, hair shielding his face again and arm drawn around himself protectively, jawline tight with annoyance as the nurse started to wheel him away.

Roy watched him disappear around the corner, hands tense with suspicious uncertainty, eyes narrowed to watch through the fringe of his hair, and continued watching, long after he was gone.

There was something very, very odd, about that kid.

* * *

There wasn't a clock nearby, or any other sort of way for him to figure out how long he'd been sitting there for, but he figured it couldn't have been very long until another nurse came over to him, bearing lunch, like her colleague, an almost sickeningly cheerful smile. He decided it should be illegal, to smile so happily. "Good afternoon, Roy-" _oh, she's just as annoying as the first one, bloody wonderful-_ and handed him the tray. "I saw you talking to Edward, earlier," she went on, smiling still, "did you make a new friend?"

Good lord, what was he, five? "Uh... yeah," he grunted, only not glaring at her through a Herculean effort he figured should've warranted him a prize. He accepted the food, and after one glance, deemed the only reason he'd found it tolerable before was the sedatives had been numbing his taste buds.

"Oh, I'm glad!" she exclaimed brightly, clapping her hands together again like he was a small child and done something worthy of praise. "It's good for the both of you. You'll both be here for a while, and Edward, well, he's been all by himself until now- so lonely... I'm glad he'll have some company now." She started to back away a little, giving him a small wave.

Not that he wasn't eager to get back to- well, staring dully around the room- but, suddenly struck by inspiration, Roy spoke up before she could leave, being careful to follow Ed's earlier advice and not appear too perked up. "Ma'am?" he called, swaying a little in his seat. "Ah, I was just wondering... what's Ed here for, anyway? He didn't seem sick at all."

The nurse hesitated, looking a little reluctant to tell him, but when a surreptitious glance around the room revealed they were alone, she passed it on- even though her voice was now hushed. "Oh, Ed? He suffers from paranoid delusions." She shook her head sadly, features falling into a sympathetic frown. "The poor boy..."

Paranoid delusions...?

 _Well,_ he thought, _if that's the case, certainly explains why he thinks the hospital is out to get him._

"Why?" the nurse asked after several moments, that sympathetic frown hardening into a more suspicious one as she suddenly stepped closer to him again, eyes narrowed- and Roy jolted, realizing he'd held silent for just a moment or two too long. "Did Ed say something to you? We might have to adjust his medication again, if the delusions are getting worse-"

"Oh- oh, no!" he rushed to say, shaking his head with an instant disarming smile. "Oh, I- no, not at all! I... was just wondering, is all."

He wasn't really sure why he lied. He was pretty sure seriously scheming to break out of the hospital ward because he believed they'd been kidnapped counted as a paranoid delusion, and one his doctors probably should know about, before Ed really did try and fashion a shiv out of a crayon and stab them. Besides, what harm could come of just telling the hospital staff what he'd said?

But...

Another uncertain glance downwards, staring at the unidentifiable lumps that dared masquerade as food on his plate, and Roy frowned.

What Ed had done for him, getting him off that shit sedative, was the only gesture of kindness he could ever remember receiving. And, evidently, Ed had been right about him not needing it, considering he'd been off it for several hours now, at least, and had yet to go off into a mental breakdown. He had that strange, fierce kid to thank for the fact that he finally felt somewhat like a normal, functioning human being again.

Somehow, he felt the least he could do was return the favor, and keep his mouth shut about what Ed was planning.

 _I'll just keep an eye on him..._ he decided, finally going for the plastic fork with a resigned sigh. _Make sure he doesn't do anything too rash or reckless. Just to return the favor._

Just to return the favor, he repeated to himself firmly. That was all.

* * *

The new guy, Ed decided, was an ass.

A very stubborn, arrogant, ass.

Just who did he think he was? Ed went out of his way, _completely_ out of his way to do him a favor, and get him off the janky meds that this place kept shoving down their throats. He'd gone and been _nice,_ for no reason other than he'd just stumbled straight into him wondering around one day in a drugged out haze, and felt bad for the poor guy. Just went out of his way, helped him out, did the right thing, all that jazz. Then tried to do him yet _another_ favor by warning him about the hospital and their intentions.

And then how did Roy repay him?

Wouldn't even believe him!

Roy, who'd been awake and sober for a grand total of four hours, thought he knew better than Ed- who had been here, by himself, figuring shit out, for _weeks._

Stubborn, arrogant, ass.

Ed scowled, glaring down at the floor as he started to push himself out of his room, the skipped sedative pill hidden in the folds of his shirt. It was just his luck his only choices were staring around at the walls of his room, trying to strike up a conversation with the nurses- who all talked to him like he was five years old- or, Roy. A stubborn, arrogant ass he may have been, but Roy was at least better than his alternatives.

Which was why, the morning after he'd actually _met_ his strange new fellow patient, actually talked to him rather than just stared at a drugged out mess, Ed found himself looking forward to the day for the first time in _weeks_ as he wheeled himself out of his room- in search of company. Because, for the first time since he'd ever woken up here, he actually _could._

Stubborn, arrogant ass or not, Ed was really, really tired of being alone.

Roy had beaten him out there- the benefits of not being wheelchair bound, he supposed. Still, Ed couldn't help but start a little in surprise when he turned the corner and there, right out there, plain as day, sat the dark-haired stranger from the day before. He didn't want to admit it, but after weeks here spent almost entirely alone... well, it was a relief to have company. Even if it _was_ someone with Roy's talent for being annoying.

Part of him had worried he'd made the entire encounter up.

But, plainly, he had not, unless he really _had_ lost his mind and was hallucinating, and he was _not fucking crazy,_ so, with a bold grin, Ed pushed himself faster forward, nodding as soon as Roy glanced over to look at him. "Morning," he called quietly, and was rewarded with a quiet greeting of his own.

"So, you skip the sedative okay? Have any problems?" Ed asked, as soon as he was close enough to murmur and soon be heard.

Roy frowned. "Obviously not." He gently patted one of the couch cushions, the same one Ed had taken to hiding all of his pills under, spending the day crushing them into a fine powder.

"It was a legitimate question! You don't have to be a dick about it, hell..."

"I said two words. That is not _being a dick."_ Roy paused for a moment, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "If I had _wanted_ to be a dick, then I could have said-"

"Please, for the love of god, stop. _Stop."_ Ed stared at him in disbelief, waving a hand like he was trying to stop a car from running him over. He waited until he was sure Roy actually wasn't about to list all the ways he could be an ass, then groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face with another force to make his eyes force. "Were you actually about to delineate how to be a dick to me? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Roy smirked again, looking especially pleased with himself. "Well, given that I'm in a mental hospital, there's probably a lot wrong with me. It's hardly polite to point that out, though."

"What the hell, I told you _yesterday_ there's nothing wrong with you. What, you fall and hit your head or something?" Ed reached forward to rap him on the head with his fist, rolling his eyes in annoyance. "Or do you actually _want_ to be crazy?"

"Well, I don't know... I figure there might be certain advantages to being crazy." He raised an eyebrow, mouth contorting into another smirk. "I mean, I get an indefinite vacation with crayons and pills. What more could a guy ask for?"

"Food that isn't shit?" Ed countered, and was rewarded with a resigned sigh, Roy's smirk slipping into a more genuine frown.

"..All right, you have something there. I'm not asking for a gourmet chef, but evidently just a bit of flavor is too much to hope for." He shrugged miserably. "I think I'd kill for some Xingese right now."

Ed paused, mouth already open for his next retort before the comment made him stop. He gave Roy a closer look, narrowing his eyes. He hadn't really given it any thought before, but... "You could be Xingese, actually. Are you?"

Roy scowled. "How the hell should I know? I could be from the moon for all I know, Ed."

Ed frowned back, wincing a little. He did have a point... then again, Roy was hardly going out of his way to not annoy him. Ed wasn't about to get all worked up over the same; it was pretty obvious the jerk didn't need kid gloves. "Well, _sorry,"_ he snarked back, rolling his eyes. "I'm just saying, you could be. Your eyes look like it. And your skin. You could be Xingese."

"...Really?" Hesitantly, Roy raised a hand to touch his own face, fingers trailing over the features, pulling at the skin under his eyes and rubbing his cheeks. He glanced around the room curiously, dark, foreign eyes suddenly bright with interest. "There a mirror somewhere around here?"

"They don't let us have pens, Roy. You think they'd let us anywhere near glass we could break?"

"But-" Roy stared at him, obviously disappointed, then sighed, letting his hand drop. "Oh. ...Wait- if there aren't any mirrors- you don't know what you look like, either, do you?"

"Oh. Um. ...No, guess not." He frowned as well, startled by the sudden question. Had he even thought about that before now? "I'd never- I don't know. Literally no clue." He touched a hand to his own face, frowning. What _did_ he look like? "Why?"

Suddenly, Roy's gaze took on the same speculative quality Ed's must have held before, and the man was staring openly, so blatantly he was almost uncomfortable. In took him only several seconds of shifting uneasily to shake his head at Roy, glaring subtly in hopes of him getting the hint to knock it off. "Come on," he muttered, starting to rise. "This is too obvious. The nurses'll show up eventually wanting to know why you're staring into my eyes like a lovestruck puppy, you weirdo."

Roy started, then folded his arms with a decidedly petulant huff, plainly annoyed. "Oh, so it was acceptable when you were the only ogling me like a walking miniskirt, but I look at you for two seconds and I'm in love?" He frowned again, arms still crossed. "And I'm not weird."

"Whatever. Just follow me, would you." He heaved himself unsteadily up to his leg, allowing himself a brief moment of resignation to frown down at the wheelchair. God, he hated it. It was so fucking humiliating. It was one thing to be this strange, deformed, two-limbed cripple... but couldn't they even do him the decency of letting him have a crutch, move around under his own power?

No. They couldn't. He'd already asked- apparently, that, too, was simply dangerous, to trust a mental patient with. Couldn't risk him wailing it around like a bat, now, could they?

Ed scowled, glaring darkly around the whitewashed ward again.

He hated this place.

Roy followed him, making to get behind the wheelchair and start pushing him; Ed shoved at him with his one hand, glowering even more dangerously at him. "Screw off," he snapped. "I'm not an invalid."

Roy gave him an odd look, but didn't say anything to the contrary as he fell into step beside him, allowing Ed to lead the way. The older man was silent for several moments, something unsure in his gaze that Ed could not identify, then: "I'm guessing you don't remember what happened, do you. To your arm and leg."

It was quieter than before, and Ed hesitated, his pace slowing. He glanced down at the empty sleeve on his right side, swaying limply as he moved. No. He didn't. Even more disturbing than the fact he'd somehow landed himself in a mental ward, with absolutely no recollection as to how, was the fact that he was missing two limbs... and had _no idea_ why. They'd been a little sore in the beginning, but nothing as bad as he would've expected if it was from his limbs being chopped off, and from what he'd been able to see of the wounds, they were long healed- so it wasn't anything the sick fucks running this place had done. They'd been missing for a while.

There was something _seriously_ fucking wrong with the fact that he was missing half his limbs and, for the life of him, could not remember _why._

"What part of _don't remember anything except the last month_ don't you understand?" Ed finally grumbled, a tad more acidly than was really deserved, and wrenched open the door to his room. He gestured for Roy to shut it behind him, not looking at him as he hopped up to sit on the edge of his lumpy hospital bed, hoping to move past the subject. _"Anyway,"_ he grunted. "Well, I already figured you out, Xingese man. Return the favor."

Roy blinked a little, seeming startled, but when Ed just continued to stare expectantly at him, shrugged and gave in. "Well..." the older man murmured, tilting his head, eyes narrowing- then broke off uncertainly. He frowned, jaw tensing. "You... um."

"Oh." He glared. " _Um._ Thanks, Roy. That's nice. I'm from the land of _Um._ Thank you."

Roy scowled. "Sorry, I'm trying- but I just... I'm not sure. You look... somehow, I want to say eastern." He scratched his head unsurely. "But I don't know why. You're not Xingese."

"What the hell? What's more eastern than Xing?!"

"I don't know!" Roy sighed loudly, clearly frustrated, and folded his arms again, still frowning at him like a puzzling quagmire. "Something has to be. Or, maybe you're from the east, but not as far as Xing? East- ...Amestris?" He gave another frown, eyes narrowed as he continued to look over him. "Amestris? That's where we are, isn't it? I-... don't really know what that is, but... I know it somehow. That's where we live." He paused for a moment, still watching Ed speculatively. "Or- I do, at any rate."

Ed went silent himself, evaluating how best to respond to that one. The words rang true for him in so many ways; that mysterious feeling of _knowing_ something was true even if he didn't know how that could possibly be so, of a fact of life on his tongue as certain as the sky being blue but he had no idea how he knew it, because he didn't even remember it. For fuck's sake, he didn't even know if the sky _was_ blue. He'd never really seen it. Had no proof that the few barred windows there were in this place even actually led outside. But somehow, something in him _knew_ that it was- just like he knew that Amestris was his home.

And it was intensely comforting to realize Roy was the exact same as him.

Because he _wasn't_ crazy, damn it.

If Roy felt the same way, that was just more proof that he wasn't insane, and it was something these people were doing to them to make them this way.

"...I know," he replied at last, avoiding Roy's gaze as he pushed himself a little into a more comfortable sitting position. "I know, it sounds crazy, and I don't really get how to describe it right- but I feel the same way. We live in Amestris. I don't know what it is, but we're from there. That's our home." He hesitated a moment longer, about to press even further, ask if Roy remembered any of his family from his home, too- then quickly snapped his mouth shut. That would invite the question right back at him, Roy wanting to know about _his_ family, and Ed just wasn't sure if he could trust him with at much yet. Sure, he trusted Roy more than anyone else here- but that didn't say much. He couldn't risk that much with him. Not yet.

Roy sighed heavily, turning away from him to pace around the room. "Well, that's... I want to say reassuring, but to be quite honest, I'm not sure if it is. This all feels very strange, I think..." He lifted a hand up, moving to scratch the back of his head- and Ed, his mouth already open to return another reply, suddenly found himself loosing an uncontrolled laugh of surprise.

"Nice tattoo," he snickered, raising an eyebrow.

Roy turned straight back around, blinking blearily at him. "Excuse me?"

"Your tattoo," Ed said again, pointing. "On your back."

"My-" Roy spun around again like a dog chasing its tail, craning his neck over his shoulder and reaching fruitlessly, confusion etched into every line of his face. "I have a tattoo? I- I had no idea..." He made another frustrated spin, then just came to a stop with a disappointed groan, face falling. "Mind telling me what it looks like? It's a little- unsettling, not even knowing something like that."

Ed just nodded, the words again speaking to a feeling all too familiar for him to like. He waved a hand, gesturing for Roy to turn back around, then carefully hopped along the side of the hospital bed to reach where the older man was now braced uncertainly against the wall.

Upon pulling up the back of his shirt, he couldn't help but let out a low whistle. _"Damn,"_ he murmured, staring at the expanse bared to him. Earlier, he'd only really caught a glimpse- but now he could see just how big the thing actually was, and didn't know whether to call Roy an idiot for doing such a thing to himself or be quietly impressed. "You a glutton for punishment or something? This thing is _big,_ Roy- like, all over." He prodded lightly at the skin of his back, poking down at one pale hip then all the way up to his shoulder blades with another sharp grin. "Bet this hurt like a bitch to get..."

He could actually see Roy stiffen this time, the muscles rolling under the ink as he shifted uncomfortably again, glaring a little over his shoulder as if trying to see it for himself. "What is-" He huffed in irritation, straining his neck in vain. "What on earth is it of? I don't remember this at all!"

"Well, of course you don't. You didn't even remember you were Xingese, idiot..." he muttered as he focused on his back again, trying to find some way to describe it to him.

The problem was, he just didn't have the words for it.

It was huge and a dark, dark red, so dark it was almost black with tendrils stretching almost below his waistband and then stretching up to try and crawl around his neck, like it was trying to strangle him. It looked almost like a giant, fancy circle, stuffed full of symbolic emblems that he didn't recognize and ringed with a careful cursive in a language that wasn't Amestrian. The letters were, but the script was something else entirely, and Ed found himself drawn to, stretching up on his toes to try and get a better look and wishing almost to touch it.

"I don't know what it is..." he murmured, tilting his head. "It's all foreign, and strange..."

"Xingese?"

"No," Ed replied, shaking his head again. "These letters; they're not Xingese. It's Amestrian script, just not Amestrian words."

"Letters?" Again Roy craned his neck, looking back with narrowed eyes as if he just tilted enough he'd be able to see it. "What does it say?"

"I just told you, I don't know! It's not Amestrian, it's- something else," Ed growled, but the annoyance was distant and faded, his mind still completely enraptured by the strange array.

Wait... _array?_

Ed stopped for the moment, eye widening as he turned the word over in his mind again. Array. _Array._ That's what this was. It was an array. He knew it. Just like he knew his country was Amestris and he knew the sky was blue, this was an array- he knew it with every certainty, with every fiber of his soul. This wasn't a weird, fancy, strange, foreign circle. It was an _array._

But... he didn't know what that meant.

Ed hesitated, sending another uncertain glance at Roy and unsure if he should share this with him. He still really didn't know whether or not he could trust him- but, then, the thing was on _his_ back. Didn't he have a right to know?

"...I think it's an array," he said at last, lowering his eyes back down to continue the inspection. Once again, however, he saw Roy stiffen. "And I don't know what that means or how I know it, so don't bother asking. But that's what this is called. It's an array."

It was all so strange... so intoxicatingly- _familiar,_ somehow. He knew what this was, had seen it before, knew what it all meant- he was so sure of it! This was something he knew! He knew it!

But he just didn't remember _how._

In front of him, Roy slowly stiffened again, the tattoo rippling as his skin moved.

"I... understand, actually," he said quietly. "What you mean... I know that word. Array. I'm not sure how, but- I know it."

Ed hesitantly met his eyes again, a moment of weighty silence expanding in the small space as he realized that, once again, Roy understood exactly what he was trying to say. It was strange, Ed himself knew he had to sound crazy to anybody else- but Roy understood it, somehow.

He nodded slowly, feeling the relief grow in his chest again, then just coughed and directed his gaze back to the tattoo.

" _Et clavem et primum sumus_ ," he read aloud, again stretching up to follow the words as they curved around Roy's back, " _Alibi et clauditem et secundum sunt..._ "

"We are both the key and the first," Roy filled in calmly, as if it was just second nature to him.

"-and elsewhere, are both the lock and the second!" Ed finished, jerking backwards to stare up at Roy in shock. "How did you know that?!"

"How did _you_ know that?" Roy challenged back, eyes narrowed. "I imagine much the same as me; I have no idea. It's the same way that I know what an array is... I don't have any idea."

"But you just... know," Ed filled in with a heavy sigh, looking back to the words again. What the hell was going _on?_ How did he know what those words meant- and how did Roy know? What did this all _mean?_

Curiously, he reached down to touch the words again, starting to trace them around the circle. Roy, however, jerked away with a loud hiss, glaring daggers over his shoulder all over again, looking about to smack his hand away. "What's wrong with you?! Leave it alone!"

"What...?"

"That _hurt,"_ the older man hissed, pushing him back again, and Ed frowned again.

"I barely touched you! I- wait a minute..." He looked back at the still exposed skin curiously, running his eyes over the pale back. It didn't really look all that recent- but it wasn't as if Ed knew all that much about how tattoos healed. Maybe it _was_ recent, not yesterday or the day before, but...

Maybe he'd only gotten it a few weeks ago, and that was why him just barely prodding the skin had hurt.

And if Roy had only gotten it a few weeks ago...

 _He's only been here a few weeks._

A cold sense of trepidation started to nestle inside him, and suddenly, his own back started to itch.

"Switch with me," he ordered coldly, voice not shaking only through a heroic effort, and in the middle of Roy's surprised start pushed to get the man to move so Ed could lean up against the wall instead, nodding over his own shoulder. "See if I have one."

"What?" Even as Roy questioned him, he saw the older man moving to do what he'd asked, one hand reaching for the hem of his shirt. "Why would you have one of-... oh."

The soft, muted note of surprise in the last syllable was all the answer his growing nest of anxiety needed.

Oh.

Ed swallowed tightly, nerves bundling even tighter, and clenched his fist against the wall.

Shit.

"...Is it the same?" he managed to ask finally, trembling in the silence.

Slowly, stiffly, Roy nodded. A worried note of trepidation crossed his face and he felt Roy tracing a circle on his own back, his fingers cold but steady. " _Et clavem et primum sumus, alibi et clauditem et secundum sunt..._ here it is. Right here. If it's not the same as mine, it's really quite similar."

After several uncomfortable moments, he felt Roy let go of his shirt and Ed turned around, shakily limping back over to the bed to sit down with a heavy sigh. He wound his fingers in the sheets, fighting to try and keep his real unease off his face, and stared at Roy as the man moved to join him.

"Your tattoo is recent," he pointed out unsteadily, trying to keep himself tied only to the facts. "That's why it hurt- I didn't do anything to it. You haven't been here all that long. And, now, if... if I have one, too..."

He didn't really want to say it aloud, himself. He knew what those nurses said about him, chiding him to stop being so suspicious, that he was just sick, _paranoid delusions,_ they said- but Roy didn't even hesitate. Roy didn't look at him like he was weird or crazy. Roy just nodded darkly at him, an errant shudder working its way down through his shoulders, and broke his gaze to stare soberly down at the floor. "You think the doctors gave us these tattoos."

"Don't _you?"_ Unable to maintain his facade any longer Ed started to gesture, first at Roy and then at himself. "Seems like you didn't have one until you came here. And what kind of coincidence is it that I would have one, _too?"_

"Unless we knew each other before we ended up here," Roy pointed out, sensibly, the older man probably thought; it just sounded stupid to Ed. "Unless we were in the same... I don't know... satanic cult..."

"Well, wouldn't that raise even _more_ questions, then?! We both know each other, we both end up in this nuthouse with no memory whatsoever, no contact with the outside world- shouldn't that be even _weirder_ , then?"

Ed beamed when Roy, his mouth already open for a refutation, stopped dead, argument thrown to the wind. "Well, I-" the man started, frowning, then stopped again. "...There's surely... another explanation..."

Shrugging, Ed just hitched up his leg to sit back on the edge of his bed, inviting Roy to continue on without words. Obviously, Roy knew just as well as he did that something extremely fishy was going on here- whether he was quite ready to admit it or not. That'd probably take a couple days, Ed guessed; he hadn't been so ready to commit to all his suspicions straight away, either- but he would understand. Once they started trying to _treat_ him as well, and he saw what really went on here, he'd get it.

Of course, even once Roy had been drafted over to his side, Ed _still_ wasn't sure just how exactly they were going to figure out just what the hell was going on here.

Ed heard the footsteps outside before he consciously realized anything else, and found himself moving before he'd even grasped what was going on. "Shut up," he mumbled, wiping every bit of suspicion away from his face as he dropped back to sit on his hospital bed. "Stay quiet."

Roy turned after him, tilting his head in confusion. "What-"

The door opened before he could finish the question, and two nurses came inside.

"Oh, there you two are!" one exclaimed. He was pretty sure that one was Ann, though the nurses had been careful so far not to tell him their names- eavesdropping was an invaluable skill. "We were wondering where you'd gotten off to."

"It's time for your treatment, now, Edward," the other told him, the younger of the pair; he thought she was Susan. She got expectantly behind a waiting wheelchair, a permanent staple to his room, and cold irritation and anger washed through him from head to toe.

Great. Fucking 'treatment'. Again. Yay.

Great. That fucking _wheelchair_. Again. _Yay._

He fucking hated that thing. He hated being pushed around like an invalid, so weak and useless, hated them never even allowing him the chance to try and walk himself. He'd tried asking, but they'd just chided him like he was a stupid child and told him to sit back down.

At least _Roy_ hadn't forced him to go in the damn thing. Roy, knowing him all of one day, had let him walk back under his own power, and had had the grace to not hover like an asshole like he expected him to fall.

But Ed kept his mouth shut, this time. He'd learned his lesson about arguing with them. He just couldn't control himself. He'd get too worked up, it happened every time, and they either realized he wasn't properly drugged or thought he was having some sort of episode, and either way, he'd end up drugged so stupid he wouldn't get out of bed for days. Drugged stupid with pills that made him hurt, made him sick, made him hallucinate- but every time he complained, they told him it wasn't the drugs. It was _him. He_ was the one who was sick, and the drugs were just _helping_ him.

He knew it was all a fucking lie.

But right now, he was just powerless to do anything about it.

He kept his eyes dull and expressionless and on the floor, just giving a listless little nod no matter the miserable despair that expanded inside him at the thought of another treatment. "Okay," he mumble, starting to reluctantly hop towards the wheelchair no matter how much it killed his pride to do it.

"Um... excuse me? Ma'am?"

Ed stiffened.

 _No, Roy. No, just shut up. Whatever it is, don't ask it. DON'T ASK IT._

He somehow managed to keep his eyes down but his ears open now, and he waited as the nurse sat him down in the wheelchair like he damn well couldn't have done it himself, listening as the pair turned their attention onto Roy. "Yes?"

There was a short moment of hesitation, one that, to Ed, screamed danger and trepidation and _no-_ but Roy, the idiot, then just started talking.

"I'm sorry, I know you might not know, but- but, do you think you might be able to tell us where we got these tattoos?"

 _No. Roy. They can't, because they won't, because they're fucking keeping things from us, you stupid idiot. SHUT UP about it, just fucking shut up! Shut up NOW!_

Ann chuckled, the same chuckle he always hated, the same grating, irritating _noise_ that made him feel like a child being patronized. "Why do you think we'd know that, Roy?"

Roy hesitated again, and Ed could feel his uncertainty even with his gaze still down on his lap. "Well, we just... both have the same one. And, mine's recent, at least, so it seems like it's something the hospital did. We... were only wondering..."

Susan, this time; she was the one who laughed, her hand on Ed's shoulder. His skin itched and crawled with the urge to throw it off. "You think _we_ gave you both tattoos? Roy, we're a hospital. Why on earth would we do that? That's just silly- ah, ah... Edward?" She moved around to crouch down in front of him, still looking at him like he was just a misbehaving child. "Edward, did you tell Roy we'd done this to you two?"

Roy, behind her, started, raising a hand as his eyes widened. "Wait a moment, now, that's not exactly-"

Ed, however, was too wary and unsure of himself to answer her, and Susan only gave him a moment or two of a non-response before she turned away with a heavy sigh, looking back to her partner. "Seems his paranoia is getting worse. We'll need to speak with the doctor, and it seems like we should give him a longer treatment today, to try and get him a little calmer."

"Wait just a moment!" Roy exclaimed, trying to step forward again. "He didn't do anything wrong! We were only talking-"

"Edward knows he needs to not be entertaining such thoughts, and he certainly shouldn't be sharing them with you- now, should you, Edward?" She gave him another stern look, patting his shoulder again, then looked back up again. "And we should be talking with the doctor about starting Roy's treatment a little sooner, too, if he was so easily convinced into believing something so paranoid."

Alarm flared inside him then and he even started to open his mouth, trying to deny it, before he locked his lips back shut with a jerk and kept himself silent. And what would happen if he tried to argue with them? He already knew what would happen; he tried it all the time. If he tried to protest, they'd just tell him he was getting upset and haul him off to tie him down in their fucking _treatment_ room until he 'calmed down'. Arguing on Roy's behalf, trying to stop them from doing the same to him, would probably just make things worse for the both of them. He had to just shut up. He had to just keep his mouth shut and take it, and then, it would be over sooner.

Roy, however, didn't know that yet.

"Please, wait a moment!" he begged, trying to step around Ann to reach him. "He makes a valid point, you know! We have these insane, matching, _recent_ tattoos- how can you not know anything about them?! You have to! And don't punish _Ed_ for it, for god's sake, he didn't do anything wrong!"

With Ed's eyes still on his lap, he could only just barely see the earnest, pleading look on his face, and the quietly concerned, sympathetic glance the nurses shared rather than answer his very damn good questions. No matter how hard he was thinking at Roy to just _shut up_ and _sit down,_ it seemed the older man hadn't yet become susceptible to telepathy, because he was still just standing up and glaring like an idiot, and he didn't seemed to realize what was coming to him, either.

Ed did. Ed knew. Ed knew exactly what was coming.

But there was still nothing he could do to stop it.

Without another word, the nurses just pushed Ed out of the room, but Susan was left to stand right outside the doorway now- to stop Roy if he tried to leave, he knew. Ann continued to ignore him completely as she pushed him on the down the hallway, a ring of keys already out to get her out of their tiny, locked section in this tiny, locked ward, and she stopped just through the first locked door, taking Ed over to the nurse's station and calling over for some of her colleagues.

"We're going to need to send a few down to Roy's room; give him something to calm him down and subdue him. You'll need at least three, because he's gotten rather unruly." She tsked again, even as she reached forward to pat Ed's shoulder like he was her fucking pet. "Can you take care of that for me, while I take Edward here to his treatment?"

It was the first time Ed had seen it from this side of things- watching the nurses gather their manpower to subdue a patient, rather than being the one about to be subdued, and he couldn't help but shiver, a chill running down his spine at the reality that her disturbingly innocuous words hid. He shivered again at the way they just nodded calmly, like what they were about to do was totally fucking normal and okay, and found himself turning his gaze away before they got their team together to go take down Roy.

He had his own troubles now to focus on, after all.

They went through another locked door, down another hallway, then through yet another locked door. He shivered again, knowing this was the one, but did his very best to keep every bit of true emotions off his face, because if she saw how anxious he really felt, he'd find himself facing exactly what Roy was now. "You really shouldn't be telling stories like that to Roy, Edward," Ann told him as she pushed him into the room, then shut and locked the door behind her. Locked. Always fucking locked. "But it's all right; we understand it's not your fault. You're sick, Edward, so when you act out, we understand that's not your choice. Remember, that's why you're here; we're trying to get you better." She smiled at him, giving him another pat. "We'll give you a long treatment today- that should really help!"

He didn't say anything to that one, either, but yet again found himself having to restrain the cold urge from punching her right in her fucking face.

He'd already tried that one, too, after all.

Ed stubbornly didn't respond to her, trying to just play as docile and drugged as possible. He knew it wouldn't work, but it felt like he was throwing the lie in her face, somehow- that they claimed they did this to him to calm him down, when he was already sitting here, totally fucking _calm._ He didn't say a word as the nurse got him up again, this time taking him over to sit down in the waiting tub. He didn't even flinch when she first took his wrist, securing it tightly in the waiting straps, then his ankle, even though everything in him screamed against being restrained and every instinct he had begged him to run. They didn't always restrain him, not anymore, not now that he'd learned it was easier not to fight- but he'd known it was coming when they told him they were giving him a longer treatment today.

He clenched his teeth together, fighting the humiliating urge to try and curl up against the straps, kept his mouth shut, and tried as hard as he could then not to react, as the nurse then got the waiting ice, and smothered him in it.

He wasn't going to scream. He wasn't going to flinch. He wasn't going to show how much it _hurt._

He didn't have much, anymore, but hiding it from them- he could still do that. He could still, at the very fucking least, manage that.

The ice baths were the easiest of their _treatments,_ he thought. He had the most control of himself here, even though this was one tended to hurt the most. He was used to the pain, by now. He was used to the cold, too; after a certain point he just felt sleepy and numb, so numb he didn't care he was tied down and humiliated- he just had to get to that point.

Above all else, he just couldn't let himself react. He wouldn't let the damn nurse get her satisfaction.

The ice was up to a little bit below his neck, so he could let himself shiver, as long as he just managed to slip down enough so she couldn't see it. He couldn't hide his chattering teeth, so he just clenched his jaw together and didn't let it happen. He couldn't let himself cry out, no matter how badly it stung and ached and burned his sensitive skin, soaking straight through his thin clothes and submerging him almost from head to toe, hand and foot bound beneath the clinking ice and stumps screaming with the pain of it.

He wouldn't react. He'd grit his teeth and bear it, and take whatever of a victory from it that he could.

"Remember, Edward," the nurse told him as she checked the tightness of the straps one last time, "this'll help you calm down and feel much, much better. All right? We're just trying to help you get better."

He didn't let himself speak back. He didn't let himself even look at her.

Ed just slumped back down, clenched his teeth tighter, and did nothing at all but shiver through the pain and the cold, because that was the only way he had to win anymore.

 _I'm not sick. I'm not crazy. They're not helping me. I don't deserve this._

 _I'm not sick. They're not helping me. I'm not crazy. I don't deserve this._

 _I'm not sick. They're not helping me. I'm not crazy. I don't deserve this..._


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you all so much for reviewing! As usual, the site's emails are still wacky, so don't trust them for now... and as promised- enter the parentalness! :D

Man, all you guys were so mad at Roy last chapter! Wow, wasn't expecting that :D Don't worry, though; the hospital heard your complaints and has decided to step up Roy's treatment, so it doesn't happen again! So- everything that happens to Roy here? It's for you guys! Allllllll for you! Enjoy! :D

* * *

As promised, Ed's punishment lasted longer than usual.

It didn't matter. He was used to it.

He was completely numb by the time the nurse pushed him back into the usual ward. He was used to that, too. Used to being so numb and drained he didn't even mind the wheelchair, because without it, he'd be facedown on the floor. Used to being so out of it he half slept through the journey back, closing his eyes in the ice bath room and opening then again as he was rolled back into the small, locked ward that was his home. Used to being so tired he couldn't even shiver.

His entire body hurt.

The nurse pushed him into his room and said something, but his head was too full of a sleepy buzz for him to hear it. He saw her smile at him, though. That usual, condescending, patronizing, sick smile.

They always smiled when they hurt him.

Like he deserved it. Like it was his fault.

And then...

She left him there.

Finally. Alone.

This was usually the point when Ed would just painstakingly crawl onto his bed and sleep. He was exhausted and hurting, but now that he'd finally been left alone he had his chance to just close his eyes and drift away from it all- to _not_ be here for a little while- and Ed was too broken down to want anything more than that. He could hide in here away from the nurses' prying eyes and just take one moment to not have to hold himself together any more.

But today, he couldn't let himself do that.

Ed waited a few moments after the nurse had left his room, ensuring she was really gone and everything was done for the day. Then he found himself waiting a few moments more, stuck in his cold, exhausted stupor and too damn _tired_ to make himself move at all. He wanted to go to sleep. He wanted to shut his eyes and not be here. He- he wanted-

 _No. No, Ed... you CAN'T._

He couldn't.

 _Roy..._

Slowly, tremulously, Ed raised his hand, forcing the numb fingers to form a shaking fist several times. Pain spiked down the limb, a numb soreness tingling in his fingertips, but he'd just been through worse and he was used to this, too; he just flexed his hand, slowly trying to get enough bloodflow back into his fingers, shivering as the movement woke his arm up just enough for him to feel the cold.

He had to get moving. He had to find Roy.

Obviously, his fellow prisoner here was safe... obviously. Ed had heard what they were going to do to him; he'd been through it himself plenty of times, and here he still was. Obviously, Roy had to be fine right now.

But what if he wasn't?

What if he'd heard one thing but they'd done something else? What if Roy's attempt to fight back had been more successful than his? What if they'd been planning something else all together?

What if he got to Roy's room and he just _wasn't there?_

As cold and tired as Ed was, the spike of panic was muted, underneath the pain and exhaustion. But it was there all the same, and it was what kept him moving, even when all he wanted to do was curl up here and never wake up again.

If Roy was gone...

 _I'll be alone again._

Ed finally managed to get himself out into the hallway, and was just too tired to work up the will to search for any dangerous nurses. He couldn't do it today; he could barely keep himself moving at all as he fumbled his way down the hallway, each little weak push to his wheelchair barely getting him even a few inches of progress. It all hurt. Moving _hurt._ The friction on his hand, the tension in his arm and shoulder, just sitting up straight right now- god, it was getting unbearable now. He could feel his muscles cramping, crying out in protest as they tried to lock up from the chill but he wouldn't let them, pushing himself inch by inch, scrabbling on down the hallway until he reached the one other door here that meant something to him.

If Roy was gone, he'd be alone here.

Again.

And it would be his fault.

If they'd done something to Roy...

 _You should've just kept your fucking mouth shut about that tattoo, you idiot, Ed._

Finally, his heart pounding in his ears, his cold hand still shaking, and trepidation building up again in his skull, Ed reached up a freezing hand to wrench Roy's door open.

He sagged with relief.

It took Roy a few long moments to look over at him, and when his eyes finally landed on him, they were more confused and bleary than anything else. Ed hesitated again, lingering in the doorway and still shivering, shivering from some painful aftermath of the relief and the still omnipresent cold, but something him in stopped his attempt to retreat back into the hallway again now that he'd seen Roy was okay. He wasn't sure what, really- but all he knew was that his options now were either to drag himself all the way back down the hallway and somehow maneuver his way into bed, or just to stay here. His exhausted, screaming body voted for option two, and knowing that, Ed pushed himself the rest of the way into the room and let the door swing shut.

Besides, if he stayed here, he wouldn't have to go back to his room and be alone.

Even Roy, shit company that he was, would be better than that.

"I'm... sorry..."

Ed shrugged a little at the rasp, fixating his eyes back down on his lap again. "Don't worry about it."

But Roy pressed on insistently, slurred voice shaking a little as he tried to get the words through to him. "I tried... I told them, you d-didn't... wasn't your fault. But..."

"They don't listen to us. Got that part, yet?" Ed shrugged coldly and still kept his eyes down, struggling hard not to shiver or let his teeth chatter again. "They think we're crazy. You could tell them the hospital was on fire and they'll just pat you on the head and smile. There's nothing you could've done, so just leave it alone."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Roy helplessly open his mouth again, looking as if he just wanted to say _something_ to make it better, but could already tell there was nothing. But still, he insisted onwards, and Ed finally managed to drag his eyes up off his lap to hesitantly meet Roy's glazed ones again. "What'd they... do to you...?" Roy stopped again, working his jaw as if he couldn't find the words. "You look..."

"I'm fine," Ed said brusquely, waving it off. "Don't worry about it. They do it all the time."

Once again, Roy's glazed eyes rested heavily on him, insistent with their need to know. He tried speaking again but words failed him, and Ed just shook his head again, but was too tired to glare back. "I'm fine," he said again, and nothing more.

Roy would find out for himself just what it was the nurses had done, after all.

"...I'm sorry," the older man sighed at last, a sound of defeat, and just rolled his head back to stare at the ceiling. He blinked up at it confusedly several times, as if he'd lost his train of thought, then wrenched himself back onto it with a visible exertion of effort. "If I'd known they'd... they'd blame you... wouldn't have asked. ...sorry."

Ed found his gaze dragged back down to his lap again, sucked away like a magnet, and suddenly, found his throat too tight to respond. He nodded, fingers shaking.

A strange warmth started to grow inside him, just a spark, and it was nothing to combat the heavy chill that weighed down on every inch of him- but it was there, all the same. And with a tiny start, Ed realized that this was the first time he could ever remember anyone actually caring about what happened to him.

His throat went even tighter, and any words were then completely lost to him.

It was quiet for a few moments, Ed still shivering and staring miserably down to his lap, Roy blinking fuzzily at the ceiling. Finally, Ed heard a little tug from the bed, and glanced up just in time to see Roy tiredly pulling at the restraint around his wrist, frustration and annoyance twisting across his pale face. "C-could you help...?"

Ed shook his head, and he was so tired and cold and hopeless anyway he barely even felt guilty for it. "They'll see it when they come back and just put it back on, then get mad at us both. It won't do you any good."

Roy's brow furrowed hopelessly, gaze drifting between him and the restraints again. he frowned, confused eyes wandering uncertainly between the two for a few long moments, like he couldn't quite make sense of it or had forgotten what he was going to say, then just collapsed bonelessly against the mattress, letting his tied hands fall back down. "Oh."

"They'll- they'll do it themselves, eventually," Ed found himself rushing to say, as if that might justify him just sitting here like a useless lump and not doing anything to help. "Once the drugs wear off. They'll come back then."

Roy's eyes darkened, narrowing into a glare but still focused on the ceiling. "They said I... the drugs... said I had to c-calm down. But I _wasn't..."_ He trailed off, frustration vibrating through the slurred words."I didn't..."

"...I know." He looked back down at his lap, swallowing tightly. "They... do that a lot. To me, at least."

There was another few beats of silence. Roy's eyes were wide again, resting on him, and Ed wasn't sure whether or not to look back at him or just keep staring on down at his lap, the surprise and concern in the wake of the revelation making him uncomfortable. "It's going to hurt," he stumbled out with at last, just needing to say it. "Later tonight. The drugs make you really fuzzy at first, but then that'll wear off, and it'll hurt a lot when they do. You, um... might see things, too." He broke off for a moment, voice wavering uncomfortably as he averted his eyes from Roy's wide, shocked ones again. "...It helps, if you just remind yourself it's temporary, and'll wear off when the drugs do. Try and think about something else, too."

The word weighed uncomfortably on the silence, and he could feel Roy watching him again, glazed eyes still wide. When he finally managed to look up at the older man again, he could see the shadow of apprehension on his face, and it made his stomach twist again with the guilt that there was nothing more he could do to help.

"...Thank you f-for... for telling me," Roy said finally, the words faint and uncertain, and Ed just nodded back, lowering his gaze back down to his lap.

"Like I said earlier, there wasn't anywhere there to do it for me," he mumbled, then shut his mouth and let the uncomfortable silence return.

It seemed like Roy was having trouble keeping his train of thought, which wouldn't have surprised Ed at all- by the look of him, he'd only been like this for several hours. Whenever the nurses did this to him, they left him like that for the night. He still had a long way to go before he'd really be coherent again, Ed realized with a quiet pang of loneliness, one that he immediately told to just shut up. If Roy could handle this, he could handle being _lonely._ Hell, he _had_ handled it now, for weeks, just because he'd had no other choice. Besides, Roy would be fine. He looked like he'd already gotten sick a few times, but the nurses had cleaned it up- luckily for him, since sometimes, they forgot to. Or just didn't care. But they seemed a little more attentive this time around, so at least he knew Roy would be fine. The drugs would wear off, and they'd let the restraints off of him, and then everything would be like it had been earlier today and it'd all be fine.

Guilt and lonely despair curled up in him again, making him shudder just as violently as the cold, and he couldn't help put pull his knee up to his chest and curl around it.

Roy frowned again, dark eyes flickering vaguely between him and the wall. "You sure you're... you're... okay?" he fumbled, blinking. "You look... c-cold..."

Ed jerked, yanking his shivering hand out from where Roy could see it and shoving it between his leg and his stomach, burying it in the folds of his thin shirt. "Said I'm fine."

Roy shifted a little, the motion awkward in the restraints as he tried to nod down towards his blanket. "Y-you can have... if you want..."

Ed shook his head before he was even aware he was doing it, hunching over on himself even more violently. He didn't even know what it was about the innocent offer that made him rebel so much against it- maybe just the offer of help at all. Because he _didn't_ need help, because he was _fine._ He'd lasted this long without help, hadn't he? He wasn't useless, he wasn't sick- he didn't need anything or anybody except getting the hell out of here. "I'm fine," he repeated coldly, and through sheer force of will, his teeth didn't chatter. "Besides, I've got one of my own back in my room. No need to steal yours."

Roy frowned at him, but the expression was haggard and weakened with exhaustion. His gaze darkened with concern as it swept over him again, clearly not fooled in the slightest. "Are you sure?" he asked weakly, tugging on the restraint his wrist again as if to reach for the blanket himself then groaning in frustration when the strap caught and held fast. "I can... Ed, you look... don't..." He sighed again, once again frustrated, this time seemingly with himself and his own inability to get the words across. "You don't look well," he managed finally, each word slow and determined, forced out as if through a great effort.

"I said leave it _alone,_ " he snapped back weakly, but somehow couldn't stop the small grin from touching his face. "You're one to talk, you know."

Roy watched him a moment longer, glazed features twisted with concern, then just offered him a tired smirk back, rolling his head away to look back towards the ceiling. "'S quite... quite rude," he mumbled, the words fading and slurred even worse, like he was about to fall asleep, and once again, Ed just couldn't help but grin back.

He waited for a second, unsure if he should leave or not. Experience told him Roy probably was about to pass out, and would stay that way for a while- he probably should try and go do the same himself. But when he glanced at Roy again, just lying there helplessly, breaths shallow and eyes unfocused, he found himself hesitant again, unsure of what to say. He remembered well enough what it had been like the first time they'd done this to him- or, not well enough, through the constant drugs... but _enough_ that he remembered how terrifying it had been. He hadn't known what was happening to him, why'd he felt so _wrong,_ why he was being tied down, what he'd even done to deserve being punished like this and if they would ever let him up again. They'd just left him like that for the whole night.

Even through the drugs, he'd been so scared he'd barely slept at all.

And even though Roy looked fine right now, all Ed could suddenly think was that that night wouldn't have been quite so bad for him, if he could've had somewhere there with him through it.

He looked to Roy again, chewing on his lower lip, the words catching in his throat. "...Roy?"

The older man grunted, then blinked, making an effort to focus again. "What?" he mumbled, eyes blearily searching for him.

"...you care if I stay in here for a while?"

"...What?" Roy asked again, blinking tiredly. He frowned for a moment, as if confused by the question, then just slowly shook his head, gaze resting on him again. "No... no. Go ahead..."

Ed sighed, sinking back into the wheelchair and wrapping his arm around himself again without a word more. Then he was staying, then. Another bit of warm relief filtered through his chest, spreading happily through his arm and leg, and it was only then that he realized maybe his motives _weren't_ so selfless, because maybe he didn't want to be alone right now, either- but it didn't matter. Roy was too out of it to notice, and him being here was helping Roy, too, so it was fine.

"Take the blanket, then."

Ed started at the sudden grunt, jerking his gaze back up to stare at Roy. Despite the abrupt words, he still looked a little unfocused, glazed eyes flitting between him and the wall, but there was iron in his voice, and whenever he managed to focus on Ed there was iron in his gaze there, too.

"I- what?"

"Take the blanket," Roy repeated stiffly.

Ed sat up a little straighter, shaking his head even as he pushed himself a little back into his wheelchair, trying to play off the order like he was fine. "No- no, I told you, I don't need it, you're-"

"Either take it, or g-get out... of my room," Roy snapped back impatiently, eyes narrowed in an order- because, Ed realized, that quite clearly _was_ an order. Roy was serious.

Probably because he knew that was the only way to get him to do what he wanted.

Ed stared at him in disbelief.

"...You're unbelievable," he managed at last, even as he slowly leaned forward just enough to pull the blanket over. "You're seriously unbelievable, you stupid- stupid jerk. I'm trying to help you here!" He hesitated with most of the blanket in his hands again, glancing searchingly back at Roy, almost hoping the man would take his words back so he could return it.

Roy, however, just gave him a small, little smirk of victory, and turned his exhausted eyes back to the ceiling for the last time. "As am I," he murmured, still smirking, and shut his eyes.

Ed continued to gape at him for one second more.

Then, the frantic desire for warmth at last overcame him, and for the first time since they'd drowned him in that bucket of ice he yanked the thick cloth tightly around him and buried himself in it all the way up his nose, leaving only just enough exposed so he could still breathe.

And, bliss.

Finally.

Perfect, _warm,_ bliss.

This was, quite honestly, the best he could remember feeling in his entire life.

His still shivering fingers worked happily into the cloth, toes worming around it to keep it firmly tucked underneath him as he shrugged it up over his shoulders a little more, leaning his head against the folds. Gratitude spread in his chest, gratitude along with a stubborn annoyance that Roy had got his way after all, when this whole thing had been supposed to go the other damn way, with him taking care of Roy-

But right now, he was just too _warm_ to care.

Ed snuck another glance at Roy, wincing a little now that the blanket was gone. He could see the straps around his ankles, too, now, just as tight as the ones around his wrists, and where the IV was stuck in his other arm, still pouring poison into his veins. He looked dreadfully pale and exhausted, barely conscious at all, and Ed made the decision then and there that the _moment_ that idiot looked cold, he was giving this back, because it wouldn't be long until Roy was asleep and wouldn't have any say in the matter. But for now, as long as he was awake and could stop him...

Damn it, who was he kidding. Anybody who wanted this blanket now was going to have to pry it from his cold, dead fingers.

"...Thanks, Roy," he mumbled, the words muffled into the blanket, far too soft to be heard, and settled himself just a little more comfortably back into the wheelchair.

* * *

Ed had been right.

The drugs they were pushing into his veins _hurt._

First, it had been the dull fuzz of a sedative, a torture only in that he couldn't catch his thought or force his tongue to form words. Ed had been sitting right there, shivering and shaken, eyes shadowed with a vulnerability there hadn't been before, and Roy had _known_ something was wrong, but it had taken all his effort just to keep conscious. He hadn't had strength to even ask him about it.

Well, now the sedative was completely worn off, all right.

And he definitely wanted it back.

He felt like a wrung out dishrag. Every inch of him sore and aching or worse, muscles screaming and the restraints so tight he couldn't even stretch or curl up against the pain. His head was pounding, hands twitching spastically, stomach twisted into a tight, anguishing knot; he could feel his heart beat like it was being crushed in a vise, each and every single hard beat of it- god, it fucking _hurt._ He was freezing and sweating all at once, torn between being burned alive one minute and freezing to death the next. He was absolutely _miserable._

If it hadn't been for Ed warning him this was how it was going to feel, he could grudgingly admit now, he probably would've been scared out of his mind right now.

Again, somewhere beneath the pain and spreading, hopeless despair, sympathy touched him, because he couldn't imagine how Ed have ever gone through this alone.

Another spasm grabbed him and he clenched his jaw against it desperately, fighting to keep the pain locked in his throat and silent. His body shook, straining out of his control against the restraints, and for an anguished heartbeat, he saw red.

Just a heartbeat, though. Because he couldn't let himself lose control now.

It took a few moments but finally, when the harsh wave receded just enough for him to latch back onto reality again, still lapping at his mind but no longer drowning him in it, he turned his head back to the left, and looked once more at his one and only visitor.

Ed still curled up in the wheelchair at his side, exactly where he'd been planted for hours now. He was entirely buried under the borrowed blanket, just a tiny, Ed-shaped lump underneath the folds and smothered up above even his chin. The blanket wasn't that great, but Ed was small and had been determined enough to make it work... Roy didn't think he'd seen into a fingertip or toe slip out from the covers since he'd scammed Ed into taking it, hours ago.

A good thing, evidently, because Ed was also now fast asleep.

Part of Roy had decided it was most certainly _not_ a good thing. Ed should be lying down in his own room. Sleeping sitting up like that was probably going to be murder on him the next day, and he'd surely be warmer in his own bed, too- but the rest of him doubted Ed would've found the strength to leave even if he'd wanted to. Yes, he looked a _little_ better now, but whatever the hell those nurses had done to him was still weighing on him terribly. His color had recovered only from a terrifying, sickly shade of grey to a dreadfully ashen complexion instead, with the shivering reduced to a minimum but _still,_ even after being buried under covers for hours, not gone entirely. He'd looked _freezing_ since Roy had first laid eyes upon him, and no matter what he said he knew that he was not okay.

His eyes, shut for hours, were shadowed still, and the look on his face, even in sleep, was... wrong. He looked vulnerable, somehow; like an injured dog licking his wounds in the corner, hiding from its master.

Except instead of licking his wounds, he was huddled miserably under a blanket, and instead of a corner, Ed was hiding in _his_ room.

Despite his words earlier that night, looking like that... Roy just didn't have the heart to throw him out.

Ed shifted a bit in his sleep, a frown touching his half-hidden face. "...Al..." he mumbled, shivering, and slipped a little bit more onto his side.

His fingers stretched miserably, wishing just to reach out and fix the blanket that had fallen, exposing the rest of his face and a little bit of his shoulder. He still looked freezing. God, he still looked he had no rights doing anything but curling up back in bed under a mountain of blankets until he'd thawed out. Roy gritted his teeth with another little moan, tugging angrily on the straps as he tried to reach for him, frustration and misery coalescing inside him- if he could just _reach-_

Pain spasmed through him again, grating and unbearable. A hot wave that tingled from head to toe and locked his teeth together, kept quiet, because he was _not_ waking Ed up now, and he kept his gaze on him too- the one and only anchor that he had.

The one thing he had to keep him sane, when he was locked in a psych ward and being told he was pretty much everything but.

When the hallucinations finally started, though, Roy decided any line of thought that depended on his sanity was pretty much a lost cause.

Still sometime in the middle of the night, this god damn night that felt like it had gone on forever already, so many hours that there could surely be no end to them. He knew it was a hallucination because Ed had told him this was going to happen, and here it came, right on schedule- even though his brain still screamed _real._

He was hallucinating, drugged out of his mind, and locked in a psych ward, but Ed promised him he totally wasn't crazy.

Yeah. Right.

It was a woman. Older than Ed, but younger than him. A slight figure that materialized from grey smoke and stars in the doorway to his room rather than walking in, blonde-haired and brown-eyed, dressed all in a faded, indistinct blue and a sharp gaze that held nothing but expectant judgement.

" _Who am I?"_ she asked.

Roy blinked.

He stared.

He blinked again.

...Hallucinations. Right.

But...

" _Who am I?"_ she asked again, in a voice that cut straight through him like glass.

But hallucination or not... something still just _clicked._

The way it had felt when he'd looked at those strange tattoos- arrays- the way he'd touched them and _known_ it was _familiar._ Something had just clicked inside him then, and now, looking at this faded, flickering ghost of a woman, something clicked inside him again.

" _Who am I?"_ she asked him, and stepped closer.

Roy stared at her breathlessly, equal parts alarm and eagerness flickering through him like lightning. _I'm supposed to know, aren't I? I'm supposed to know who she is, but I can't... I can't...!_

" _You know me,"_ she challenged to him, then a step closer, a step closer, another step closer, and then suddenly she was there, standing right at his bedside and as imposing as an executioner. _"Say my name, Mr. Roy Mustang."_

The familiarity of it screamed inside him alongside the bone-deep pain and he swallowed a cry, pain lancing through the recognition. He tried to jerk away, the logical awareness that it wasn't real offering no quarter to the soul-deep _fear_ inside him, but the restraints held and the woman reached a hand out, hovering it just within reach of his. _"Say my name."_

 _I don't know it!_ Again he only swallowed the words just before they'd leapt free, some whisper at the back of his mind cautioning him to keep quiet, for Ed's sake, always for Ed, Ed all but forgotten behind the shadow of this woman, and he lurched away again, the bed creaking and the restraints tightening like snakes. _Tell me your name and I'll say it, but I don't KNOW it!_

" _Yes, you do."_ She paused for a terrifying moment, looking down at him in impassivity. _"Elizabeth."_

Roy jerked away, a bead of cold sweat rolling down the back of his neck. Elizabeth... "Eliza...beth..." He rolled the name around his mouth, testing it, tasting it with his tongue. Elizabeth...?

 _Is... is that your name?_ he tested uncertainly. It didn't feel like her name. It didn't feel right at all. He looked at the shadowy ghost, at her golden hair and cold eyes and the blue shrouding her slim form, he looked her all over and something in him knew every inch of her, but-

" _You know that's not who I am."_

Roy stared harder, confusion twisting around the agony sweeping through his muscles. He jerked and almost cried out again; the spasm that tore through him was unbelievable but she just watched him still, no sympathy, no help- just a single, unanswerable question.

Elizabeth... Elizabeth, Elizabeth... he knew it wasn't her name, he knew it wasn't right, but... but how did he know it? And why? Why would she say it if that wasn't who she was?

 _Elizabeth..._

" _Tell me why you know me. Tell me who I am."_

He shook his drugged, muddled head slowly, fighting for coherency even as he spoke to someone who wasn't even real in the first place. _But I don't- I don't-_

He didn't know her, but he _did._ Every single inch of her, he knew better than he knew himself- he _had_ to! He just had to!

But what was her _name?_

Not-Elizabeth reached a careful hand forwards again, this time touching it straight to his. It- _not real it's not real-_ hurt, every fingertip of contact _hurt,_ so damn much- _Ed said it's not real, it's not real, it's not real!_ \- a livid burning sweeping through his arm, lit matches stuck to his skin and burning oil in his blood, oh, god-

"Ah! _Ah!_ Stop, stop-"

" _You burned me, Mustang."_ Her long, pale fingers climbed around his, latching on tight and oh, _god_ it hurt, it hurt so _badly-_

" _Stop! Stop, please!"_ He wrenched frantically away but his arm wouldn't move; why wouldn't it move?! _You're hurting me! I didn't- burn you, I wouldn't have ever, I-_

 _...would I have...?_

" _You burned me,"_ she challenged him again, not even an accusation this time but a calm statement of fact. A deep, empty night sky expanded behind her, seamless deep black as she leaned straight over him, brown eyes meeting his, so close he could hardly breathe even as he fought to get away. He couldn't move, why couldn't he move?! _"Why did you burn me?"_

 _I DIDN'T! I WOULDN'T HAVE! I- I-_

" _Why did you burn me, Roy?"_ She was too close, pressing in on top of him; all he could see was her eyes, burnt auburn boring through his skull, her hands sizzling brands into him; there was a screaming in his head that sounded like birds, _"Who am I?"_

The room burst into flames that flickered against the night sky, and Not-Elizabeth burned with it.


	4. Chapter 4

All right! So, the site's been even _more_ rocky; who knows who's getting emails and now it's been crashing pretty much constantly since Friday. This is great. We shall see. For future reference, if something like this happens again, you can always _check_ this fic on ao3; there's no guarantee it'll have a new chapter, though- I store my chapters on this site, and if it's so bad I'm not even able to get through to post it, well, the version on ao3 won't be updated, either. If this continues, I'm not sure what I'll do now, but here's hoping it _won't_ continue, because surely it can't be _that_ difficult just to keep a long-functioning site still online... But anyway. Thanks so much to those of you who were able to get through the site to leave a review last time! And now, on we go! :D

* * *

A nurse came along eventually, frowning to find Ed still in Roy's room and shepherding him along after checking on her drugged patient again. Ed, still reluctant, had kept his mouth shut. Roy had been totally knocked out by that point, but so restless and distressed it had been disturbing, muttering under his breath and trying to toss and turn against restraints. It had been the nicer nurse anyway, Susan, so when Ed had found himself shaken out of an impossible doze to be pushed back to his room, he just hadn't found it in him to protest. He was exhausted, freezing, and sore, and his body had wanted nothing more than just to lie down in a next of blankets and never get up again.

The nurse had taken Roy's blanket off him, slightly warmer from the hours it had spent absorbing his body heat, returning it to Roy before taking him back to his own, colder, lonelier bed.

Despite how uncomfortable Roy's room had become, the louder and louder the older man had started muttering, Ed found himself missing it, in the dim, cold silence of his own room.

He told himself to quit being selfish. After all, there'd been pretty much nothing he could've done for Roy at that point, anyway.

He was woken up the next morning by the bitch nurse, the one he hated the most, and just barely resisted the urge to push her into the damn wall. She was the one who'd questioned him yesterday, who'd set off Roy being drugged into oblivion and his own extra long treatment. _Bitch._ She knew he wasn't really sick. She _knew_ what was going on here- whatever the hell that was. She was doing all of this on purpose. She was-

"Let's hope you feel a little bit better today, now, Edward?" Ann told him, smiling sweetly, and handed over his daily dose of stupid goddamn drugs. "We don't want a repeat of yesterday, now, do we?"

Ed glared viciously at his hand, and once again had the instinct to just fucking punch her.

But he kept silent, because he'd learned what happened when he treated these people how they deserved. He accepted the handful of medication, and it was almost second nature now to hide the sedative under his tongue as he reluctantly swallowed the rest. He sat there and nodded and did everything else he had to do, until finally, he was left alone.

Then, for the first time, he finally had a reason to actually get up and face the day.

He knew from experience it'd be a few more minutes before Roy showed his face, so Ed didn't let himself panic when he poked his head outside and found no one waiting for him. Blanket still clutched tightly in one hand, he worked himself shakily down the hallway, limping through the soreness and still shivering. It always felt like he was shivering, nowadays. By the time he'd finally completely warmed himself back up it'd be time for another 'treatment', so why even fucking bother?

Still shivering, Ed just clutched the blanket tighter to his chest, felt his face fix itself in its near permanent scowl, and parked himself out on the lousy couch to wait.

He didn't have to wait long.

He heard the footsteps first, not ten minutes later, and he somehow could already definitively recognize them as Roy's. Then he actually saw him, the older man uncertainly venturing around the corner like he wasn't sure he belonged, rubbing uneasily at his wrists and looking around in bleary-eyed confusion.

The relief that expanded in the room when their eyes locked was almost palpable.

Ed told himself he was being dumb, because _obviously_ Roy would end up being fine, and even if he hadn't what did it matter, he'd only known the guy a day or two anyway, but somehow none of this stopped his limbs dissolving into jelly and his breath leaving him in a shaky, weak gasp. Roy blinked, staring at him intensely, then suddenly strode across the room brusquely and, in a decidedly business-like manner, pulled him straight off the couch and wrapped both his arms around him in a hug.

"H-hey!" Ed yelped, hopping a little as his precarious balance was upset straight off the bat. "Hey! What are you-"

"I have been waiting to do this since last night," Roy muttered steadily, arms tightening a little more around him, and straight on cue, Ed flushed.

"I'm fine! Nothing even- even happened-"

"You're freezing," Roy cut in sharply. _"Still."_ He tightened his arms again, rubbing a little vigorously on Ed's shoulders, and it was only then he realized _that_ was what Roy was doing- he was trying to warm him up.

"...Well... that's..." Ed winced, averting his gaze even as Roy continued to rub on his shoulders. He flushed again, his face the only warm thing about him. "...It's fine. I'm... used to it."

Roy made a little, annoyed sound in his throat, tsking quietly at him. There was some rustling overhead, and Ed pulled back just in time to see Roy drawing another blanket around his shoulders, another layer of instant warmth so intensely comfortable he almost moaned, barely catching the relief and gratitude in his throat. "You're such a mother hen; what's wrong with you?!" he snapped, aiming for fiery but pretty sure he only reached pathetic. "I'm- I'm fine-"

"Sure you are. Just like you were fine last night." Roy scoffed quietly again, a small smirk crossing his face. "I bet you're the type of person to say you're fine even when you're bleeding to death."

This time, the scowl was genuine as Ed shoved hard, forcing him back to sit down. "Says _you!_ You were the one chattering about being a-okay last night, you jerk; meanwhile you looked like you were about to have a heart attack or some shit." He shook his head in annoyance and dropped down to sit beside him, hugging the blankets closer to him with a huff. _"Jerk."_

There was a short moment of uncertain silence. Then, again without warning, Roy dropped his heavy arm back around his shoulders, not quite a hug but still pulling him close enough to impart a sense of warmth. "Well," he said quietly, a hint of solemness returned to his voice now, "to be quite fair, I clearly was, and am, doing well. ...Even if I still feel like my stomach has taken up tap dancing on my spleen." He paused for another moment. "You, on the other hand, seem to be in a bit worse shape than me. ...and, you left."

"What?"

Roy shrugged slightly, dark gaze averted. "You seemed quite set on staying last night," he filled in steadily, as if it was all completely obvious. "Then I woke up, and you were gone. ...Considering the circumstances, I don't think you can blame me for being worried."

Ed blinked. Once again, his face flushed warmly, burning in the sudden face of such open concern. Roy had been... worried? About him? On one hand, considering everything that had gone on last night, for the guy to actually have been worried about _him_ instead of himself was ridiculous- but, as Ed stood there, feeling his long, heavy, warm arms around him, he realized he had never felt this before. He'd never felt someone else actually be concerned about him like this, and never mind the fact that Roy barely knew him from a bar of soap- it was the unavoidable truth. Roy actually cared enough to be worried.

His face heated up again, insides turning soft and squishy, and he suddenly found himself absolutely unable to look at him. He wanted to say he was touched, which somehow annoyed him and he folded his arms gruffly, trying to get some distance and pretty much failing. "You're a _jerk,_ you know that."

Roy laughed quietly over his head. "Indubitably."

After a moment, he was tugged again, and with the blankets Ed couldn't resist as he was gently pulled back to sit down on what had become _their_ couch. As sore as he'd been it was a huge relief, and his pride was only to ready to take the blow when he just snuggled back into the corner, pulling up his leg so he could even his cold toes into the warmth. Roy didn't say anything but Ed still defiantly kept his eyes down, not wanting to see it if the older man was amused at him because of it, patronizing smile and all.

He got enough of that from the god damned nurses, after all.

"...You're okay, then?" he asked after a long silence, casting a careful look at Roy out of the corner of his eye. "Really?"

Roy nodded without hesitation, but from Ed's current position, he could just catch a glimpse of the shadow that washed over his pale face. "Of course. Everything... everything happened, just as you said it would." He shrugged carelessly, but it seemed almost forced, and he was obviously in no hurry to look at Ed. "Everything's fine. I... imagine my experience was quite similar to yours, based on what you described."

Ed averted his eyes too, somehow understanding just fine the sudden discomfort. He huddled a little more under his blanket, the shivering not quite as bad anymore, wrapping his fingers around the worn edges. "...If it helps, the drugs is some of the worst stuff they do. Leaves you feeling screwed up for days. The ice baths- I mean, yeah, I guess I'm cold for a while, but it'll probably be easier for you, since you're so much bigger, and anyway, I prefer being cold to being screwed up."

There was a moment of silence from above him, the heavy arm wrapped around his shoulders suddenly deceptively still.

Then:

"...Ice baths?"

Ed stiffened.

 _Oh, crap._

"Uh... forget I said anything." He hunkered down further, trying to hide his face in the folds of his blanket even as he shook his head vigorously. "Doesn't matter."

"I actually think that it does."

Damn it, damn it, damn it, _no._ He did _not_ want to talk about this. "Just forget about it, Roy, it's nothing-"

"Is _that_ what they did to you last night?" the older man demanded, and Ed suddenly found himself pushed back to meet his sharp gaze again; eyes still half glazed and unfocused with the drugs but an angry light of injustice underneath, hands gripping his shoulders and mouth pulled into a scowl. "They put you in a- an _ice bath?"_ His face contorted and he started to stand, glowering. "What was that supposed to help? What benefit could that possibly-"

"Will you _hush!"_ Ed hissed, grappling to heave him back down before he did something they'd both regret. God, he was such an idiot! "Didn't you figure it out last night; complaining just gets us in trouble! What, are you so eager to find out about the damn ice bath that you wanna experience it for yourself right now? _Moron!"_ He reeled the idiot in violently, hauling to get him to sit back down on the couch before he royally screwed up.

Roy hit the couch again with a quiet _oof,_ perhaps bigger than he was but still unbalanced from all the drugs, and Ed couldn't help a triumphant grin when the older man just hit the battered cushions limply, blinking in surprise. He looked completely out of sorts, almost befuddled by the sudden response, and Ed found himself torn between embarrassment and a victory face- all on top of the worry that Roy was going to press the matter and fuck things up again.

It took a few moments, but finally, Roy relaxed back into the couch, still looking a little taken aback by the vehement response but at least like he wasn't going to go storm off to get a nurse again. "...Sorry," he murmured, frowning distantly. "Really, I am. I guess it's just... a little difficult to get used to." He paused again, not really looking at Ed. "...You've really been doing this on your own for a while, haven't you?"

There was a quiet note of concern in his voice, something subtly worried about him all over again, and that nixed his moment of triumph, just like that. Ed immediately looked away as well, going for an absentminded shrug as he ducked his head again. Something about it just felt weird. "Wasn't that bad," he muttered, almost defensively. "Few weeks, I guess. Doesn't matter."

"...Right." Roy breathed a quiet sigh, still looking away from him; the arm around his shoulders returned in a few moments as a sort of afterthought, it felt like, with less urgency than before but more understanding. "So, then," he went on, clearing his throat. "You said they- they give us... ice baths?"

Ed sighed unhappily as well. He couldn't say he wasn't that surprised he wasn't letting it go. After all, if Ed had been in his shoes, he didn't think he would have, either. "It's not that bad," he insisted again, though he wasn't sure if he was trying to reassure Roy or just deflect his sympathy. "You really do get used to it, after a while. They, uh... for me, anyway... they tend to do it every day, or two if you're lucky. That's their normal treatment. They only use the drugs when they think they need to calm you down for something- you figure out how to avoid them, eventually."

Roy frowned again. "Eventually- right," he muttered, averting his eyes. He looked quietly annoyed again, but at least in control enough to not go charging after the damn nurses again, and after several moments cleared his throat once more, this time with a business-like sort of air, the exertion of will almost palpable as if he wrenched his thoughts back on track. "Well, then. Now that that's all been... settled. Do you care to return to our earlier topic of discussion, before we were so callously interrupted, or would you rather settle for something less potentially upsetting?"

"Our... previous topic of..." Ed's eyes widened and he jerked away from the one-armed embrace, glaring when it hit him. "You mean the tattoos? From yesterday? God damn, what's _wrong_ with you? I bet you're a politician. All high-brow, pompous and shit. Who _talks_ like that?"

Roy smirked proudly, a face Ed was growing very familiar with and in fact, now that he thought of it, fit his idea of of _politician-face_ just perfectly. "Well, based on the quality and breadth of your vocabulary, I'd surmise you to be the son of a swearing sailor."

"Wha- you _ass._ " Ed jerked away from him, stubbornly dragging the blankets with him as he whirled on the jerk, jabbing another angry finger point at his stupid, smug face. "I'm not- I know more than swear words, I just- why _son?!_ Why do you get to be a politician but I've gotta be the _son_ of a sailor?! I'm not a little kid! You shit!"

If possible, Roy looked even _more_ smug right now, smirk intensifying as he leaned back with a self-satisfied air. "A _little_ kid? No, no; perish that thought- but, I was merely pointing out, our respective size differences do seem to indicate-"

"You shut your stupid _mouth,_ you-"

Ed heard the approaching footsteps and his instincts kicked into action long before he'd even consciously realized what was going on. One moment, he was standing there, arguing at Roy's dumb face, because Roy was dumb and deserved it, the next, he'd felt his expression shift into enforced calm as a wave of cold anxiety washed over him. He turned, blankets and all, to hit the couch by Roy's side again, staring vacantly to the dirty floor with his face blank and his shoulders slump.

Roy stiffened beside him, drawing an inch away in uncertainty. "I'm... sorry?" he queried hesitantly, head tilting to the side. "Was it something that I said...?"

Ed didn't answer.

Not two seconds later, Ann and Susan walked around the corner.

They both looked mildly confused, as if they'd heard the raised voices beforehand and come along expecting to see the cause of them, but there was nothing there for them to see. Just Ed, staring vacantly at the floor, and Roy blinking at him in confusion.

Roy, however, was a fast learner. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the older man slump as well, his face washing over with a blank facade just as Ed's had, eyes dulling, and just like that, the two stupid nurses were fooled.

There were a few moments of silence, then an awkward clearing of the throat sound. "You two boys all right?" one of the nurses asked, confusion still weighing on her voice.

Ed swallowed his scowl. He was pretty used to hiding his irritation, frustration, and anger from these people, after all. "Mmm," he mumbled noncommittally, not even looking at them, and Roy was quick to follow his example.

It took another moment or two, the nurses both seeming a little uncertain at what was going on. After the night before, however, Ed was just in no shape to handle going through another one of their treatments today, and Roy evidently agreed; together they gave the nurses nothing to go off of but downcast stares and blank expressions, and after another silent inspection, at last, it seemed even they had to give up, and withdraw.

"Just checking!" Ann chirped, and she and her partner retreated right back around the corner.

Ed held his silence for several moments longer, perfectly still and quiet, fists clenched as he waited for the inevitable. He gave it longer than he really probably had to, to be honest- but after last night, he sure as hell was not taking the chance.

Finally, however, it was clear that they'd gotten away clean.

Releasing the breath he hadn't realized he was holding, Ed led his head fall, ragged hair shadowing his eyes as he shifted just enough to meet Roy's cautious gaze again. "For the record," he muttered darkly, "just because we got interrupted, does _not_ mean this is over. Jackass."

That was all it took to get Roy to relax, as well, the blank, empty mask from before fading into yet another quiet smirk. "Certainly, shrimp."

It took just about all of Ed's self control, not to start shouting at that one.

"You- I- well, you're just a- _ass!"_ he spluttered, face flaming and hand clenching in a fist so eager to smash his smug smirk in the nails nearly drew blood. "Yeah, I'm fucking smaller than you, big fucking whoop. You're probably just taller because your whole body had to grow to accommodate that gigantic head of yours; got any more observations to drop down on me, Colonel Obvious, or can we move on with the helpful conversations now?"

Roy gave him another smug look, one that screamed _I won and I know it,_ but thank god seemed content to let the argument drop. "Of course," he acquiesced, shifting a little back to fully face him, expression shifting back into a more business-like expression. "Although, I believe the expression is Captain Obvious."

"What?"

"Captain Obvious," Roy said again, shrugging. "Instead of Colonel."

"What? Yeah. Yeah, I..." Ed's eyes widened, and just like that, everything ground to a screeching halt. "...know."

He did know that. Captain Obvious- but he'd said colonel, hadn't he? Without even thinking about it, like it was just a well ingrained habit. He'd definitely said colonel. The word rang uncertainly in his mind again and he rolled his tongue around it, a strange taste in his mouth and a sudden hesitancy weighing over every inch of him.

Why had he said that?

"Anyway, the tattoos," Roy pressed on obliviously, interlacing his fingers. "Neither of us really got a very good look, yesterday. I was thinking-"

"No, wait, wait." Ed waved anxiously for him to stop, his mind abruptly reeling. "Stop. I knew that."

"Knew... what?"

"Colonel!" he exclaimed, only keeping his voice down by some sort of miracle as he waved him on again, already impatient and annoyed that Roy just didn't get it. "I know what the expression is, and I used it wrong."

Roy's eyes narrowed confusedly. "Well... I'm sure you just misspoke..." he said slowly, still clearly not understanding. "I'm not-"

"No, I didn't _just_ misspeak." Smacking his hand down, Ed again wrenched himself up off the couch, moving awkwardly over to the wall to pace as best as he could while he left Roy behind to stare blankly, utterly flummoxed. "No. I called you Colonel for a reason. I know what the expression is, I didn't screw it up, I didn't misspeak, I called you Colonel and it _wasn't_ a mistake. I know it!" He turned, still hobbling along the length of the wall, each and every aggressive step trying to break through the solid wall in his mind in between him and understanding.

Colonel. _Colonel._ That was the key word. He'd looked at Roy and, without really thinking about it, called him colonel. Why?

Why did it just... fit?

Why did it sound _right?_

"I... I don't know..." Ed shook his head miserably, voice wavering as he stumbled back around to fix Roy with another look, staring in complete bewilderment. He didn't get it, and he _hated_ that. "It's just like with the tattoos! You and I, we both knew what those words meant, we both just got it for no reason, we both knew it was an array, whatever the hell that is- this is the same thing! I don't get why, but something about it just feels right! You know? Like yesterday, Roy!"

Slowly, the older man blinked. His face was just as blank as when the nurses had found them, but this time, Ed didn't think it was a facade. Dark eyes stared vacantly at him, shrewd but utterly lost, and for a long moment, he said nothing at all, just stared at him.

Like something was wrong with him.

Ed's insides turned cold.

He _knew_ that fucking look.

"I'm not crazy," he hissed, dropping his hand off the wall to turn and face him completely.

Roy blinked innocently, his eyes widening. "What? I didn't say-"

"You didn't have to say a damn thing. I'm not stupid, Roy. I know how you're looking at me. Like- like those nurses do- and I'm not crazy, okay?! I'm not sick! _Nothing's_ wrong with me!"

"Hang on, Ed, I didn't say any of that, I just-"

"Just think I'm crazy, right? Totally out of my mind, locked up here because I deserve it? I'm _sick,_ and all they're doing is making me better, right?" he spat, disgusted. " _Right?"_

"Ed-" Roy started worriedly again, but he just wasn't going to have it this time.

" _You_ shut up. I'm trying to help you here; you know that, right?! I'm the only one here trying to do a damn thing for you! But you want to just give it a go on your own, then, like I had to? Think it'll just be a fun time to sit here and believe you're crazy and rot? _Huh,_ Colonel Roy?"

Roy was just fucking like the nurses. He was automatically crazy, and every word he said only proved their point, and nothing he could ever say would do anything but further convince them all that he was crazy. Just because he'd ended up in this psych ward somehow, no idea how or why- but he _wasn't_ crazy! He _wasn't!_ He looked at Roy and didn't believe he was sick or out of his mind; why the hell couldn't the guy give him the same courtesy?!

 _I'm NOT crazy!_

 _I'M NOT!_

Ed breathed out a hard gasp, glaring furiously at Roy who still just sat there, watching him impassively. The guy who he'd been immeasurably relieved and reassured to be with just last night but suddenly infuriated him beyond belief just fucking sitting there, watching him, like those nurses were always _watching_ him...

"Are you done?" Roy asked quietly, voice agonizingly steady.

He sucked in another gasp through clenched teeth, anger washing through him in a boiling wave. He opened his mouth again, sputtering for a heartbeat, then just clenched it shut, feeling all together stupid and a mess and hating himself for it and Roy all at the same time.

Roy waited for several moments, and when Ed found himself frustratingly unable to manage as much as a simple, scathing reply, the older man got to his feet again, approaching with a calm, unreadable sort of stare. "Ed," he said quietly again, hands raised a little in the universal gesture for peace. "I never said or thought any of that. Okay? If you're convinced that colonel means something, then- then I believe you. It means something."

He looked as if he wanted to go on at first, then just shut his mouth and stopped, waiting for him to answer. His face was still frustratingly impassive and Ed found his unsure reply catching in his throat, stuck over what to say or believe. He blinked, staring up at Roy, suspicion and paranoia warring for attention in his mind, feeling almost as if he was being torn in two from the instinct to fear but the _need_ to trust- because, Roy- Roy was suddenly acting like he could trust him again, but- god, what if he _couldn't?_ What if Roy was just humoring him, playing nice with the crazy kid? What if he was lying to him? What if this was just a scheme by the nurses; what if Roy wasn't a real patient at all, just put here to watch him, or-?

Or what if, worst of all, Roy wasn't _real_ in the first place?

What if he really was crazy, and had just dreamed Roy up like an imaginary friend when he had no one else here, and was just standing here shouting at an empty couch?

"Listen to me," Roy said again. "I may not understand too much of what's going on here, but you've been here longer than I have, and have had to figure most of this out by yourself. So if you think colonel means something, then it does, and we should try to figure out what. Okay?"

"...I..." Ed swallowed, part of him still angry but desperately trying to justify it, now. "Um..." He shook his head for a moment, blinking uncertainly at the grounds that Roy had just yanked out from under him. Everything was fixed again, just like that. "Well, I-..."

But he couldn't have just overreacted for no reason at all. He couldn't have just snapped and screamed at Roy like that with zero justification, because that- that'd mean he was crazy. And he _wasn't._ He was _not_ fucking crazy, he was just- being careful, and- and _paranoid,_ right? Because the nurses, they said he was sick, that he had paranoid delusions, and-

"Look, after last night, I think neither of us are really in the best state of the mind at the moment anyway, Ed." He gave him another steadying look, one that if it hid suspicion, did it flawlessly, then took a few steps back, gesturing for Ed to join him. "So let's just move on, and focus on the tattoos. And... the colonel thing. We good with that?"

Ed hesitated for a few moments longer, searching over every inch of the older man for even a hint of deceit and lies and fighting to keep his face steady; couldn't let the suspicion or fear show, because here, that wasn't suspicion or fear, that was _paranoia_ and it was to be medicated away into nothing. He narrowed his eyes, staring hard at Roy, every part of him waiting for the inevitable betrayal-

But it just didn't come.

"All right," Roy said after a long moment, smiling slightly. "We're good with that." He started to move away, then abruptly turned back to the couch to collect his blanket and held it out to him, gesturing again. "Let's get out of here; somewhere we can look at those things without being interrupted again. Okay?"

Ed held still for one moment longer, suspicion and worry beating so hard in his chest it almost hurt to breathe.

 _Don't trust him. You can't trust anyone. You're alone here, you can't trust him, he's done nothing for you, just turn your back and get out of here while you still can..._

He closed his eyes, and remembered how Roy had looked, and how he had felt sitting next to him, just that night before.

"...Fine," he muttered.

Carefully, Ed moved just close enough to steal the blanket back, dragging it gratefully around his shoulders and all too relieved to hide back underneath it again. "After you," he said darkly, gesturing for Roy to lead the way; safe or not, he'd feel a lot better if he didn't have to turn his back to him.

Roy gave him that look again, that oddly unreadable, uncomfortable look, as if he read more into the words than Ed had wanted him to. To his credit, though, he only hesitated for a moment before acquiescing without another word, allowing Ed to follow him at an awkward, hopped limp down the hallway.

They made it off to his room in short order, a weak aura of relief expanding the moment was shut behind them and they'd gained at least a hint of privacy. Even Roy looked a little more relaxed when he firmly shut the door and just like that, they were alone, although Ed's relief was short-lived when he realized their next problem.

They stood there together for several moments, Ed staring uncomfortably between the floor and the empty, waiting bed. Roy shifted his weight and Ed frowned, the both of them obviously unwilling. The problem was obvious- with the tattoos the way they were, to really get a good look at them, one of them was going to have to just suck it up and be vulnerable. One of them was going to have to just move over, helplessly lie down on his stomach, and let himself be poked and prodded at and whatever the hell else. In Ed's current state, he couldn't imagine anything more unsettling, unwanted, or miserable.

Which sucked, because he was pretty sure he was going to be the one to do it.

Roy was the able-bodied one. It'd just be easier for him to navigate and investigate than it would be for Ed, with Ed having to hop awkwardly around the bed, using his arm mostly for balance, as utterly painful, grating, and humiliating as it was to admit it- but that wasn't supposed to matter, should it? This wasn't about what made him comfortable. This was about figuring out what the hell was going on so they could get themselves out of this situation. His comfort and safety were irrelevant to everything else, weren't they?

He just needed to suck it up, grit his teeth, and do it.

Yeah.

That was... what he had to do.

Ed shifted his weight a little, insides twisting miserably, and again found his mouth too dry to even speak.

"Well," Roy announced after several long, awkward moments. He cleared his throat, but Ed didn't realize what was going on until, with a loud creak of the bedsprings, the older man sat decidedly down on the edge of the bed and Ed jerked his gaze up to stare at him, blinking in disbelief at the sight.

Roy offered him a weak grin. "Half of me still wants to throw up, the other half wants to pass out, and all of me wants to never take so much as an Aspirin ever again. I think I'm good with lying down for a little bit, if you don't mind." He grinned again, then reverted his attention to carefully pulling off his hospital shirt, revealing the inked skin while completely obscuring his face with a mess of hair.

Ed hesitated, instantly put on edge as he narrowed his eyes, staring closer at the guy and searching him for any sign of lies or, even worse, pity. But, bewilderingly, there really wasn't anything telling. He _did_ look truly exhausted, bare shoulders slumped a little and dark circles under his eyes, lines of sincere fatigue etched into his face as he dropped his hands to his lap to meticulously fold the shirt. Truthfully, having been in Roy's position himself, Ed knew it wasn't a lie- the day or so after the drug treatment and he was usually so tired he couldn't even manage to get himself out of bed, and so sick he couldn't manage to want to.

If Roy was doing this just because he felt bad for him, it didn't show.

Slowly, Ed managed to let himself smile again, a small, weak twist at his mouth but genuine all the same, and he felt some of the nearly permanent tension in his shoulders slowly drain away to nothing.

 _He's real. I'm real. This is all real._

 _I'm not crazy, and this is all real..._

* * *

Roy breathed out an exhausted sigh of relief as he finally hit the mattress, stomach-first and fatigued beyond belief. The lumpy bed and scratchy sheets, tantamount to hell before, were unbelievably comfortable now, and he squirmed deeper against the bed and pillowed his head in his arms, for a moment so contented he couldn't even stop a smile.

Earlier this morning, finally freed and for the first time in hours, coherent and not in unimaginable pain, Roy had been more than able to set his fatigue aside for the sake of finding Ed. The jolt of fear that had shot through him upon opening his eyes and realizing the kid was just _not there_ had been more than enough to nix his exhaustion. After the state Ed had been in the night before, Roy had already known he wouldn't be able to rest until he'd seen with his own two eyes that he was all right.

Well, now he'd seen that.

And now, the exhaustion was back, full storm.

Roy shifted his head a little on the neat bundle of his shirt, trying to relax as he listened to Ed moving around him. "I think I'm going to try drawing this," the kid announced, moving back into Roy's line of sight. "That way, we can compare ours easier, make sure they really are the same. I know it's still sore, so I'll try not to poke at it too much." He ran his hand through his long hair, grinning sharply again. "Guess we got a use for those crayons after all, huh."

Roy grunted in the affirmative, watching through half-lidded eyes as Ed started to situate himself to get the best view as he could. It was a good idea, definitely one that he could get behind, although he still wasn't too sure how much of this was him humoring Ed. After all, he wasn't so naive to believe there was _nothing_ suspicious about all of this- but he couldn't quite buy Ed's theory yet, mainly because Ed _had_ no theory. Strange, matching tattoos, strange, matching memory loss stories, strangely unhelpful nurses and treatments- that was just it. Everything was strange, and nothing was adding up, but Ed's idea that they'd evidently been kidnapped by a crazy doctor for no other purpose than making them suffer was preposterous.

Nothing was adding up, but Roy just could not help the small part of him that listened to Ed's suspicious, shaken ranting against the hospital and remember the nurses quiet, sympathetic diagnosis of _paranoid delusions._

Roy swallowed uncomfortably, unable to help feeling like just a bit of a liar, and averted his gaze as Ed continued his inspection.

Another point of contention was the kid's outburst earlier at him, one moment conversing normally and the next almost shouting, shaken and in an outright panic, demanding over and over that he wasn't crazy. To be entirely honest with himself, Roy knew all that unsettling scene should've done was provide more support for everything the nurses had told him. The look on Ed's face then, every word he'd said-

Well, it'd hardly been the picture of mentally stable.

But...

Roy hesitated again, dragging his gaze back downwards to stare at the floor.

He'd only been here a few days. He'd gone through a long round of continuous sedatives and one single instance of treatment, punishment, whatever, and was currently sick as a dog and half miserable because of it.

Ed, however, had been here for _weeks._ He'd been through their treatments constantly, the drugs Roy had endured the night before and these new _ice baths,_ apparently- and more than that, he'd survived them all alone. Roy couldn't even imagine, he'd barely been through anything at all- but god, the night before... he shivered to remember it even now. The restraints, the constant pain, the sickness, the... hallucinations... it'd been simply _awful._ There was no other word for it. But he'd understood what was happening the whole time; Ed had been sitting right there, explaining it to him.

Ed had never had anyone like that.

After everything that he'd been through, Roy could hardly blame him for being so jumpy and easily angered like that. Nor did he feel right dismissing it all as more paranoid delusions and ignoring him.

Ed had every right to be hurt, now. And was it really paranoia, if the nurses, at least, really _did_ seem to be out to get them?

Sighing, Roy carefully shifted, trying to get a better look at Ed without obstructing the kid's view of his odd tattoo. Ed was sitting in the chair next to his bedside, biting his lip as he stared intensely down at him, already completely focused completely blocking the rest of him out while he sketched out a large circle in flaking red crayon. "About that... colonel thing," he started hesitantly, because he honestly wasn't too sure himself how much it had really meant. All he knew was that _Ed_ was convinced it meant something, and for now, that would have to be enough. "You said it feels like the tattoos did? Familiar, in a way that you can't place?"

Ed didn't reply for several moments, too intensely focused on transcribing the tattoo to answer him. Finally came a distracted, "Yeah," though he continued to bite his lip, still frowning in concentration. "Yeah. Exactly like the tattoos, actually." He still didn't seem to be paying him that much attention as he sketched out a careful circle on the paper, falling silent for a few more moments to focus on his work ."Maybe _you're_ a colonel. Literally, a colonel in the military or something."

Roy stopped just short of shrugging, ensuring not to disrupt Ed's view of the tattoo. Considering his curious lack of memory, he supposed Ed's theory was as decent as any... "Maybe," he hedged. "Aren't I a bit young for colonel, though?"

Ed hmmed distractedly, still drawing the circle, then abruptly shot his gaze back over to his face, glaring and pointing at him with the crayon. "Shut up; you don't even know how old you are! What are you even talking about; don't brag like you're so young or whatever..."

"Wha- I didn't say any of that!" Scowling, Roy pillowed his head a little more comfortably- and stubbornly- in his arms, frowning at the bed. Unrepentant, offensive little shit. "All I'm trying to say is, colonel is a rather high rank, and I certainly don't feel old enough to have accumulated that many stars on my shoulders." He shrugged again, this time not even caring whether or not he got in the way of Ed's drawing. "Maybe it's a nickname or something..."

Ed continued sketching at first, once again not paying him any mind- so distracted, in fact, Roy wasn't convinced he was even being listened to. But then, out of nowhere the kid straightened up again, paper being moved aside like it was barely even worth an afterthought as he jerked the chair closer, eyes brightening in a sudden burst of light nearly contagious in its energy. "Hey, hey, wait! Nickname, rank, whatever- we're looking at the wrong thing here! None of that matters- the point is that I have a _name_ for you, Roy! I have something I used to call you!"

"...Ah..." he cleared his throat awkwardly. "How- insightful of you...?"

" _Gah..._ no, you _dolt!"_ Ed's hand shot out to smack at the back of his head, irritation flashing in his eyes again. " _No._ The point is, I have to have known you! Before we ended up here, I mean- we have to have known each other! It's the only thing that makes sense! We knew each other before we got here!" Suddenly almost shaking in excitement, Ed darted forwards to bounce on the edge of the bed and touch his tattoo again, pulling at the skin and staring between it and him, breath quickening, smile growing. "That's it, that's it! We know each other, don't we?! We knew each other before we ended up here! And you- you're Colonel, for some reason- and me- well, you have to know me somehow! That's it, Roy! We know each other!"

Roy, once again, was stunned into silence.

Ed was... right.

Paranoid or not, delusions or not, there was no other explanation for what Ed was saying. If Ed remembered once having a nickname or _whatever_ colonel was for him- then they had once known each other. Whatever was before this hospital, they had experienced it together.

Which made it all the more unlikely that it was just a _coincidence_ they had both ended up here together, as well.

"We know each other," he repeated uncertainly, turning his gaze back over to him. He stared at the excited, practically bouncing teen, searching over every inch of him for a sign of familiarity, something to be _recognized._ Before he'd even realized he was doing it Roy pushed himself over onto his side then fully upright, staring harder at Ed just as Ed stared back at him.

If they'd known each other before now, there had to be _something,_ right? Something in him that Roy knew. Something him that he'd missed up until now. Short, long hair, startling eyes... two missing limbs, and a stare that was surely older than his years... frowning, Roy got up off the hospital bed and started to circle around Ed, scrutinizing every bit of him. Something was here, it _had_ to be!

"I don't... I..." He tilted his head to the side, taking another step around him. "Maybe..." Slowly, Roy reached a hand around him to gather Ed's long hair up, holding it together behind his head and taking another look at him. "Maybe this?" he questioned unsurely, but almost winced at how pathetically unconvinced he sounded, even to his own ears. Ed with his hair up seemed to almost fit _something,_ but at this point Roy wasn't sure if that was valid or if he was just trying so hard to see something he was imagining something that wasn't even there. Groaning, he let his hair down again and sat back down, sharing a disappointed look with Ed. "I'm sorry. I'm not saying you're wrong, but... I just don't see anything I remember, Ed."

Ed's excitement was hardly that easy to chase away, however. With not even an annoyed look, Ed just pushed him back to the hospital bed, grinning all the while and shaking his head like it didn't matter. "It's fine; I'm sure it'll come to you! I mean, I stumbled upon this colonel thing by complete accident. Maybe this isn't something you can try and force- point is, we definitely know each other. And I bet if we can just figure out how, maybe we'll be able to figure out something about why we're here." He paused, then pointed at Roy's back, smile dissolving into an instant, sharp frown. "And what the hell these messed up tattoos have to do with it, too."

Roy still, admittedly, didn't really understand anything that was going on here. He didn't know how much to trust Ed- his intentions were innocent, and not a word he'd said had been malicious, he fully believed that much, but the fact of the matter was, Ed was supposed to be sick. Hell, _he_ was supposed to be sick. Something was wrong with the both of them, and something told him just hopping on to this crazy train behind Ed and embracing the idea that everything about this was a conspiracy against them was not a good idea.

But, at that moment, all he could hope for was that Ed was right.

* * *

 _A/N: hey guess what you have next chapter_

 _Angst :)_


	5. Chapter 5

Thank you all so much for reviewing! And now, welcome, to yet another rudely long chapter... also, due to some questions I've gotten- this is not an AU! This takes place completely in canon, a year or two after Ed becomes a State Alchemist with Roy as his CO. Brohood or 03, I guess brotherhood but it doesn't really matter. Anyway- thank you all for reviewing! Now, as promised: angst! :D

* * *

"Could've met in the military."

Roy scoffed. "We've been through this- I'm too young to be a colonel; you're too young to even _be_ in the military. Next."

"No, no- wait-" Ed scowled at him, glancing up from the sketch of the tattoos he'd been studying to focus on him again. He waved his fork, then stabbed it back into the slop that constituted lunch. "I mean, you're in the military, and you met me on the job somehow?" He tugged on his empty sleeve before looking back downwards to his lunch in his musings. "I mean, my limbs didn't just fall off- maybe I lost them in a war or something."

Roy shuddered, almost delicately, and shifted in his position to pull Ed a little closer to his side, tightening the blanket around both their shoulders. "I'd... hope someone as young as you wasn't involved in a war, but, all right. Possibility appropriately tallied. Again, next."

Ed shrugged, glancing back down to his drawing of the array again. " _You_ contribute something." He narrowed his eyes at the sketch, as confusing and inscrutable as always, then just sighed and went for his little cartoon of milk next, handing it over to Roy without looking. "I've been pretty helpful here; what about you?"

As usual, Roy made an annoyed sound in his throat but accepted the milk without complaint, opening it one-handedly. "I feel, once again, societally obligated to remind you that, perhaps, your challenges with height are related to a deficiency in calcium, and as a growing boy, you-"

" _I'm not short! I'm not, I'm NOT! Shut up shut up shut UP or I'll pour the goddamn milk on your head YOU STUPID-"  
_

"And, as I said," Roy drawled innocently, "I can not accept your milk in good conscience without ensuring you know the risks."

Oh, and he could fucking _hear_ the smirk on Roy's face when he said that one.

Groaning darkly, Ed returned his focus back down to the array in his lap, resolving to just block the older man out like the jerk that he was. Maybe, if he ignored him hard enough, Roy would just wither up from the lack of attention and die.

It had been a little over a week, since Ed had been joined here in this prison of a hospital wing by a coherent Roy, probably two or three since Roy had ended up here all together. Already, the two of them had struggled their way to etch out this unsettling, tenuous new normal- albeit, one that depended heavily on their unknown schedule of 'treatments'. Thus far, they'd both managed to avoid being drugged into oblivion, at least- just the usual medicines they were given each morning and the sedatives they hid away each morning and night. Good, on one hand, but on the other, ice baths fucking sucked, and if they weren't being drugged into oblivion-

Well, that was the alternative.

Still, though, Ed reflected, this week was probably the easiest he'd had it ever since waking up in this damn hospital ward.

It was easier to keep himself calm, now that he had someone with him. It was just _easier,_ because before he'd fight and argue the nurses but now he'd bite his tongue and not respond to the nurses' baiting no matter how much it incensed him, just keep silent and never give them a reason to drug him just with the heavy knowledge that Roy was here with him. Somehow, that was all it took, and Ed was unendingly grateful for it. It was the calmest he'd been able to keep himself _ever-_ and Roy, too, was clearly doing better; he hadn't provoked the nurses since that first night, either, following everything Ed said and managing to behave for as long as he had to.

Sure, again, they weren't left alone... there was still the annoying rounds of medication in the mornings, and then the ice baths every day or so, probably just as frequent as their bodies could stand them- but it could've been worse. That was Ed's lifeline, now- the realization that it could've been worse... and the _memory_ of when it _had_ been worse, every single day before Roy had gotten here.

He'd survived worse, and he would survive this.

He would survive everything for as long as he had to, because someday, he _was_ getting out of here.

That was what he and Roy spent most of their time dedicated to, nowadays. In a way, at least. No escape attempts were being plotted just yet, Roy still a bit too leery and wary to fully commit to it. Ed had gritted his teeth and forced himself to not push the matter, forcing himself to accept that Roy just hadn't been here long enough to get it, like he did- hell, Ed didn't even _know_ how long he'd been here alone for. He certainly hadn't woken up here clued into the fact that everyone here was a fucking asshole who had it out for him... he could hardly turn into a hypocrite and lambast Roy for not doing the same.

He'd get through to him, though.

He'd get through to him _soon._

For now, however, they spent almost all of their free time trying to figure out where they had come from. What their past connection was, what colonel could mean, what they saw in the strange tattoos- anything at all, that could lead to a possible answer. Sometimes relaxing in one of their rooms, sometimes moving around near the couch, Roy pacing and Ed hopping at a steady, balanced pace, just ecstatic for the chance to be able to move around since Roy had never once looked at him like he was a helpless invalid- not like those nurses, always watching him pityingly, always cautioning him off into a wheelchair, always chiding and chastising him like a baby.

Sometimes, however, they were like this.

Huddled close together under a tight wrap of blankets, Roy's arms around him in a tight hug for shared warmth, talking and leaning against each other as they tried not to shiver.

They weren't making too much progress, maybe, but for now, Ed was just too content in the relative peace he'd grasped to really care.

"Well," Roy put forth, rubbing slowly along Ed's shoulder. "Maybe I'm not in the military at all. I could be a doctor- met you that way." He pointed over at his missing arm and leg, then reached back over to finish drinking the rest of Ed's disgusting cow juice.

Ed snorted. "Why would you want to be a _doctor?_ Doctors suck! What, you want to apply for a job here or something?"

"I'd rather be a doctor than a child..."

"You _smug_ little _shi-"_

As if on cue, the doorknob turned and the hinges creaked, and Ed instantly shut his mouth while Roy lowered his face with one quietly disguised, very self-satisfied smirk. Seething silently, Ed just kept his gaze focused downwards as the nurses stepped into the room, a one by one processional of assholes and punishments waiting to happen. "Good afternoon, you two," Ann started with an irritating faux kindness, and with a, "How are you two doing today?" tacked on by Susan, and Ed once again just gritted his teeth in abject annoyance, while Roy's private little smirk just broadened.

 _What an ASS..._

"Time for treatment!" Ann said, first beckoning over to Roy with another smile. "Roy, those orderlies in the hall will take you down to yours. And, Edward- good news, for you! The doctor thinks you're ready to start the next phase of your treatment! Isn't that exciting; now you're really going to start feeling better!"

Ed froze. Roy's smirk, so commonplace nowadays it had almost started to be a comfort, suddenly fell.

...what?

They were... were taking him...

...to what?

"A new... new treatment?" he heard himself stammer, and it was only a pathetic sort of miracle that kept his brain functioning enough to hold the words dull and sleepy and his eyes vacant and tired.

 _What- what are they saying? A next phase in treatment?_

 _What are they going to do to me?_

Ann just patted his shoulder warmly again, the way she always did, then reached around to take his hand without asking, pulling him away from Roy and on back to Susan and the waiting wheelchair. "That's right," she told him, sitting him down and keeping him there with a firm hand to his shoulder. "The doctor thinks you're ready now! Trust us, Edward- it's good news for you. You'll be getting better in no time, now." She patted his shoulder again, the gesture a lot closer to an order to stay put than a move to comfort him, then glanced back up to where Roy was still sitting in his chair, looking just as quietly alarmed as Ed felt. "Roy?"

The older man stiffened, staring between the nurses with narrowed, unreadable eyes, silently worried and suddenly just as suspicious as Ed was. Their drugged facade from before was all but gone and he started to turn around, glancing to meet Ed's eyes in mutual concern.

"Roy...?" Ann started again. This time, the question the innocence of the question had faded, and in its place was the growing shadow of suspicion.

That was all the warning they needed.

Roy blinked, dullness washing over his face and gaze dropping like a switch had been flipped. "Of course," he mumbled, pushing his way unsteadily to his feet and his hands dropping limply to his sides, gaze fixed on the floor. He stumbled ahead at an uneven pace, hair shielding his eyes, only to lurch to a halt directly beside him- and one heavy, warm hand, landed directly on his shoulder.

Ed closed his eyes, fighting back the nervous tightness in his throat. He didn't dare reach up to return the gesture but focused on it with every fiber of his being, bowing his head and breathing in and out in time with the frantic beating of his heart. _It's okay. You'll be okay. No matter what they do to you, you'll live through it. You've lived through it before and you'll live through it again, and all you have to do is get through it and then come back here where Roy'll be waiting. It's okay. You'll be okay, Ed._

 _You can do this._

Ed kept his focus purely on the linger of the warmth on his shoulder. He kept his focus there even when the nurses had prodded Roy on again and the hand had left his shoulder. He kept his focus even as they were led to separate hallways, their bond split as they were both forced away from each other, thinking about that warmth even when he was left alone and, door by door, was taken away from everything that was familiar and towards everything that he couldn't stand.

 _You can do this, Ed._

 _You're not sick, you're not crazy, you don't deserve this, you can do this._

He kept his eyes closed, he shut out the anxious nausea growing in his stomach and the tremors in his hand, he ignored the presence of the nurses behind him, and he just focused on that warmth, as they took him towards their new hell.

The ice baths were down a different hall entirely, the one they'd taken Roy to. This was a place Ed had never been to before, though it looked the same as all the rest; plain walls, rows of shut doors, all utterly deserted. Neither of the nurses spoke to him; god, it was just utterly, almost _hauntingly_ silent save for the squeak of the wheelchair along the floor, and Ed's breath caught painfully in his throat again, aching in his chest as he was taken around one final corner and then, at last, through a door.

A chill shot down Ed's spine, a shiver rocking him from head to toe, and fear clenched in his stomach so tightly it hurt.

Their destination, at last.

And it sucked his breath away.

He was in a small room. A small, cold room with an identical atmosphere as the rest of the hospital; all steel and everything clinical, harshly detached and reeking of antiseptic. There were no waiting ice baths, however. No waiting beds, for him to be restrained to. No; there weren't any devices or furniture at all in the room, because everything had gone instead make room for the design on the floor.

There was a huge, detailed circle painted down on the tiles. A black line on the gleaming floor, arcing beautifully from corner to corner, edge to edge, etching out a perfect circle that held twisting black symbols and foreign words and impossible lines. A triangle inscribed in the circle, and a smaller circle in that, the black blooming outwards as dead and dying petals with the curved, foreign script _the same script on Roy's back_ slithering around the edges... the same script on _his_ back.

The array was massive.

 _That's what that is- it's an array- an array just like on Roy, on me. It's painted on us and there it is on the floor. Oh, god, there it is. It's an array. I don't know what the fuck that is but that is what is on me and that's what's on the floor right now, and- and I don't like this- I really don't like this- this is bad-  
_

Except it _wasn't_ the same array. The words were different, the symbols changed, the ones on him and Roy indescribably more complex- but none of that mattered. It was still an array. The things on him and Roy were arrays and so was that thing on the floor in front of him, and every single second it stared up at him the only thing Ed knew was sheer, inescapable _horror._

He wasn't supposed to touch that array.

He didn't know anything anymore, but _that_ , he was sure of. He didn't even have to think about it. All it took was a single glance at the thing and he knew that he was _not_ supposed to touch it.

He _couldn't._

"Well, well. I see my patient has finally made it to our first session."

Ed jumped so badly he nearly rocked straight out of the wheelchair.

They weren't alone in the room.

There was a chair by the side of the circle, pushed just far back enough to not intrude in through the careful arcs along the floor. In the chair sat a man- the first new face Ed had seen here since Roy. A slim, unassuming figure draped in a white doctor's coat, as cold and pale as the steel of his chair, messy, sandy hair half shadowing his eyes in a way that almost reminded him of Roy's, with his legs crossed and his fingers interlaced in his lap and a warm smile waiting the very moment Ed looked up and met his eyes.

"It's nice to finally meet you," the man said, and smiled again, "Edward Elric."

It was instinct, that jerked him further back against the wheelchair. It was pathetic and helpless, and he just couldn't help himself as he withdrew, pressing himself back away from him and hugging his arm to his chest, swallowing the growing knot of fear in his throat. "W-who are you?"

The man leaned forward congenially, raising a hand to him in greeting. "I'm the doctor who's been overseeing your case, ever since you were admitted here. You can call me Justin."

He shivered again, pushing himself even further back against the wheelchair. "...Okay."

Justin nodded warmly to him, still looking nothing but inviting as he gestured him forward, and the nurses behind him immediately pushed him a little further into the room. "I've been following your case very closely ever since you got to the hospital. You may not remember, Edward, but you were quite sick then- I'm very pleased with the progress you've made so far. I can see that you've been working hard at your recovery."

 _If 'recovery' means 'breaking the fuck out of here', then yeah._ "If you've been watching so closely, why haven't I ever met you before now?" Ed snapped.

Justin's warm smile, however, did not even falter. "My policy, I'm afraid- there just wasn't much that I could do for you, when you first got here, and I have so many patients as it is... I try to wait until patients can most benefit from my work before I meet them. I've been following your progress with my nurses, though, and as I said, I've been very impressed. I decided it was finally time we met face to face, Edward. As I said- very nice to meet you. I'm hoping our relationship will be a long and fruitful one."

 _Not if I have anything to fucking say about it._

"...What do you want with me?" He curled up a little more, wrapping his arm around his leg and desperately wishing he'd been allowed the freedom of not being in a wheelchair, so he could actually step away from this creep. "I'm not going to... I won't let you do whatever you want to me!"

"What? Oh, no, of course not, Edward- all I want to do is help you here!" Justin nodded to him, then gestured down to the eerie, black array on the floor. "We're just starting the next phase of your treatment, here, as I'm sure the nurses told you. It's always shown to have very promising results, and I'm sure you'll agree once you've tried it that this is a good step for you. It's really very quite simple, Edward." He rose to his feet, one hand flitting to his deep pockets as he progressed to kneel carefully in the very center of the circle- and then carefully placed the object right in the middle of the design.

"This is a new treatment we've started looking at it," he said again. "We take care of everything- all _you_ have to do, Edward, is use this circle." And he pointed downwards again... towards the small, simple, innocuous rock waiting for him in the array.

Ed stared blankly, his heart pounding hard and desperately as his gaze jerked between the doctor and the- thing. It was just a rock. Just a small, smooth, black pebble, easily smaller than his hand and as harmless as a feather. That was all it was. Just a single, worthless rock, sitting in the middle of an impossible, inscrutable array.

And Ed knew it was wrong.

Everything about it was _wrong._

Before he even realized what he'd done, Ed had shaken his head, and then he pulled violently back, head turning back and forth over and over again at the visceral, horrified denial that burned in ever vein, every bone. "No-" he gasped out, "no, I-" It wasn't right. Period. Nothing else to say about it. Every single thing about it was flat out wrong and he wasn't doing it. "No! I won't touch it!"

But Justin didn't even seem dissuaded by the instant response, just standing back out of the circle and gesturing to the nurses, a silent order to get him up and in the confines of the wrong, unnatural thing. Their arms were on him out of nowhere, getting him up, moving him forward, and Ed fought back to wrench away, almost gasping in the sheer panic of it as he threw himself out of reach. Because he _wouldn't do it._ He wouldn't fucking touch it! It was wrong! It wasn't right! He wouldn't do it! _No!_

"Edward, now, I understand you're reluctant, but this is just to help you," Justin told him sternly. Arms were around him again, all but picking him up in the air to haul him closer to the circle so fast he couldn't even think to kick or scream or get away. "And it's not difficult for you at all! It'll make you feel so much better, and you have to do is use the circle. What are you so upset about?"

The protest caught in his throat as he reeled back again, shaking his head back and forth and all but wordless with the horror of it. He felt ridiculous, insane; here he was reacting like an out of it lunatic for no reason, because he couldn't fucking justify it at all- so hell, maybe he _was_ crazy, but at this point Ed would be fine being left in a psych ward for the rest of his life if he just never saw that circle again. "I won't do it!" he swore adamantly, hopping back far enough to stare at them all, the smiling doctor and shocked nurses, meeting each one of their eyes in sheer defiance. "No! I'm not sick, I'm not crazy, and you can't make me do it! I refuse! You can do whatever the hell you want to me but you can't make me do _that_ , and I won't! _I won't touch that goddamn circle!"_

He stared desperately between the three of them now, the scream torn from his throat as he panted for breath and shook on the spot, helpless and vulnerable on only one leg and pathetically unable to defend himself with only one arm, but Ed didn't care. He wasn't doing it. He'd sooner ram his head into the wall until he passed out before he used that circle. He knew it wasn't right and that was all he had to know.

He _was not_ , and _would never,_ do it.

Everything finally went to an unsettling quiet, all that was left the sound of his own gasped breaths on the stale air. It was perfectly, horrifyingly still, all three just staring at him and that terrible array just waiting for him on the floor; time almost stood still.

And then, finally, Justin's smile fell.

"Well," he said. He let out a deep, disappointed sigh, shaking his head almost pitying down at Ed, then transferred his gaze back to the pair of nurses behind him. "It looks like we were wrong. He's not quite ready for this stage of treatment yet."

Ed froze, his eyes widening.

Wait... what?

"It sounds like," he continued, but Ed was helpless to do anything but stare, "we'll need to take a step back for a bit. Edward is going to have to learn all that we're trying to do is help him, after all, and that his being uncooperative isn't going to help that."

They... weren't going to make him do it?

They were actually _stopping?_

He heard the nurses behind him start to move again, one saying, "Yes, sir," but Ed was so shocked and relieved he didn't even protest as they picked him right back up and lifted him back into his wheelchair. He didn't dare say a word and just waited, waited for the hammer to fall, for them to tell him the consequence to disobeying, but no one was saying anything or doing anything to him at all- they just turned the wheelchair around, and pushed him straight back out of the room they'd pushed him into.

And this time, he was already smiling, the thing stretching across his face from ear to ear in ecstatic, breathless relief.

This was all he'd had to do! Saying no had finally _worked!_ They weren't going to do anything to him; they were just going to take him back- and he could see Roy again, and he could tell him saying no worked now, that saying no didn't work with the nurses but it _did_ work with the doctor, everything was going to be okay, they didn't have to accept what this dammed torture chamber called _treatment_ anymore- they could say no! They could say _no!_

Ed was so ecstatic, almost bouncing in his seat, that he almost didn't realize when the nurses took him down a different hallway that he'd gone to meet Justin.

Almost.

This was a different hallway. A new one. He wasn't sure how he knew it, it looked just the same as all the others- but he was sure of it. Whitewashed, rows and rows of shut doors, deserted except for them, squeaky floors- but it was different. He hadn't been here before.

These doors weren't just shut. They were locked. Locked, very clearly from the outside- not just with keys, but deadbolted and chained, each and every one of them.

Anxiety started to sweep up from inside him.

Anxiety, and dread.

"...Where are we going?" he asked hesitantly, stretching to look over his shoulder at the nurses behind him. "I thought he- I thought that doctor said we were done for the day."

The nurses didn't answer. They didn't even look at him.

Ed squirmed in his seat, a tiny seed of unease planted in his stomach as he tried to sit up a little straighter, infusing a hint of steel into his voice now even though it _never_ seems to work with these people. "I thought we were finished! He said he wasn't going to do whatever he had planned for today! Why are we-"

Still without even casting him a single glance, Susan brought him to an abrupt stop outside one of the rooms. Ed craned back around, trying to see just what was happening, what he was being taken to, but she pushed him back down immediately even as Ann moved to unlock the door. He heard the heavy mechanisms inside the knob turn with an almost sickening grinding, and then she turned back to him with a sickening smile, and said, "Come along now, Edward,", and gripped him by the arm to lift him to his foot.

Even then, the hard grip on his shoulder stayed, very clearly ready to restrain the very instant he should show resistance.

He gulped.

"W-what's going on?" He tried to stay where he was, but his balance was just too poor; just a little bit of pressure from the one behind him and he had to move forward or he would've fallen flat on his face. "What are you doing?" He tried to struggle again but with only one leg and arm, just _couldn't;_ even as every instinct inside him screamed danger and _no_ he found himself desperately hopping over the threshold, heart hammering a panicked stampede in his ears.

Small white room. Maybe twelve by twelve, if that. Soft floor. Not just floor- floor, walls, ceiling. All around soft and white and that was it, so much of it in such a tiny room that it almost looked like a-

A padded cell.

His heart beat skyrocketed.

"Wait! _Wait!_ Stop, I-"

"Edward," Ann, Ann with her sickening smile said to him, "this is the time out room. We take patients here when you've gotten unruly, and try to resist our attempts to help you. You heard the doctor- being uncooperative won't help anybody, now, well it?"

" _Wait!"_ he gasped again, trying to pull away but the nurse's grips were just too tight. "Wait, that's not- that wasn't going to _help_ me, I didn't want that- I'm not even sick! I just- stop, don't do this-"

"Edward," she said with that same smile, that same pitying look, that same condescending light in her eyes, "remember, now, dear, you're sick. You need _us_ to tell you what's best for now. Being uncooperative with us will just make you sicker."

"No!" he cried, fighting to worm away, "Stop, just- just let me _talk,_ please! Don't do this, I- I don't want-"

The nurse tsked quietly, looking away from him like he were no more sentient than a talking lamp and shaking her sadly at her partner. "He's getting upset, now. They always do, the first time or two."

Her partner nodded back with that same sad, condescending sigh. "Looks like the doctor was right to order restraints," she said, reaching up for something, and Ed's heart skyrocketed all over again.

Restraints? _Restraints?!_

"Wait, wait- stop, please-" he begged, but the nurses were already reaching for him, Susan gently stopping his struggles like it was just child's play while Ann held something soft and white, and both of them were still _smiling_ at him-

"Remember, Edward, this is for your own good," Susan chided softly. He couldn't stop or focus, head whipping between her and the other as he felt his arm being moved, pulled through something but the other kept speaking, as if trying to distract him from what was happening. "You're just going to spend a little bit here in the time out room until you've calmed down, all right?"

"And this here is just to stop you from hurting yourself," Ann finished cheerily, and too late Ed's gaze was pulled back down to realize what had been done to him.

His stomach bottomed out, and icy horror flooded through him from head to toe.

She'd put him in a thick, white jacket, just as white as the entire rest of the room. One arm had been forced through a long sleeve and forcibly folded in front of him that he could already feel was bound tightly to his chest. A single attempted jerk was all it took; he could barely move it an inch before the cloth caught, and if it hadn't been for the nurses still holding him upright the thing would've made him fall. A gasp caught again his throat, making him feel the buckles drawn tight all around him, bound around his back and his chest, and then he knew-

He _knew-_

They'd put him in a fucking straitjacket.

" _WAIT! WAIT,"_ he screamed, _"STOP! You can't-"_

Susan just kept on holding him and shook her head with a sad sigh, looking to her partner again, looking at her like he wasn't even fucking _there._ "He's so upset," she mused aloud, "we may have to leave him in here for a couple days."

"Or longer, even. As long as it takes for him to calm down and accept treatment," Ann said as she withdrew her ring of keys again, her ring of keys to _lock him in_ here.

" _NO!"_ Ed shouted desperately, and as much as he'd hated them holding onto him before he suddenly craved it, leaning frantically forward as she started to pull away and leave him behind all alone. "Wait, stop, please- please, you can't do this to me-" _Several days?! OR LONGER?!_

He couldn't stay in here that long. He couldn't; he just couldn't. His mind kicked into overdrive and nauseated panic swam inside of him, the white walls pressing in all around him and the restraining jacket pressing in so tight it felt like he couldn't get away. He couldn't do this. Several days?! Just left in this tiny padded cell all alone, his body stuffed into a straitjacket and the door locked like he was some kind of prisoner or criminal or madman?! He couldn't-

" _PLEASE!"_ he howled, trying to jerk his hand out again to hang onto her but the jacket held fast and the nurse just smoothly stepped away, leaving him standing there alone in the padded cell.

"Remember, Edward," Susan told him with a kind look, standing there with the empty wheelchair, the thing that he'd abhorred until now but suddenly wanted back with all his soul. "This is just until you're ready to cooperate. We really don't want to do this to you, but your actions have forced us to. Whenever you're ready to behave, just say so, and we'll be able to let you out."

And they both smiled again, one last time-

And the door was slammed shut.

Not even a second later, he heard the locks clicking shut one by one with a chilling ring of finality, sealing him away to rot- and then, silence.

Through the soundproof walls, he couldn't even hear as the nurses walked away. He couldn't hear _anything,_ except the panicked gasps of his own breathing and the pounding of his heart.

The seconds ticked by in agonizing, unbearable silence.

"N- no-" he rasped at last, shaking his head violently. "No-" They wouldn't just leave him here, would they? No- no, of course not. This was barbaric, inhumane! As much as he hated it here it was still a hospital, right? They wouldn't treat people like this! No-

"I- help? Please?" He carefully hopped a step closer, almost frantically relieved that the confining jacket at least left him that much movement, then hopped another. "Please? Hello?"

No answer. Not even a whisper.

He was completely, utterly alone.

"No, I-" he hopped a step forward again, "I- _ah!"_

Whatever was left of his precarious balance, the jacket had completely robbed him of. One step further, just a little bit off, and however he'd been managing to keep himself upright dissolved completely, and he fell straight onto his side. The jacket didn't even let him move to catch himself; one second he was upright, and then horrified _terror_ swept through him from head to toe because he was falling and couldn't even _move-_

And then it was over.

There he was. Just lying there on his side on the floor of a padded cell. The fall hadn't hurt. He'd even bounced a little bit.

Bounced a little bit, because they'd locked him in this room, in this _thing,_ so he wouldn't hurt himself- and, Ed realized, with a dawning sense of horror, they were right. He couldn't even do that. He was so tightly restrained they didn't even need to stand here and watch him. He couldn't do a _thing._

He was alone.

He was here, locked in this room, barely able to move- and alone.

After several still, impossible seconds, Ed slowly turned onto his back. The buckles around his torso clinked and jingled a little, provoking the ever familiar horror to sweep through him yet again and making his face flush with shame, but he didn't let it stop him this time. Carefully, he maneuvered onto his back, once again ignoring the hot humiliation when he felt the padded floor, and tried to sit upright.

He tried again.

He tried a third time, on this attempt bucking his hips violently to try and manage the leverage.

He fell back just as pathetically as he had his first two attempts and once again found himself left to just lay on the floor. The padded ceiling waited above him, the padded, soundproof, madman-safe ceiling, and when Ed made another reach for it, this one less planned and more desperate than all the rest combined, the straitjacket calmly held him just as fast as it had before and he was left imprisoned on the floor.

A tiny cry of panic came loose from between his clenched teeth, and slowly, Ed felt himself start to shake.

* * *

Ed got to know his new situation very, very well.

He learned each identical inch of his new room. It wasn't as if he was looking for an escape route, really, because he already knew there was none- but perhaps some variety? He wasn't sure, but he learned it, learned it all. He learned his room was a perfect square of soft, soundproof padding, the only break in the monotony the tiny crack in the wall from where the door waited, because there wasn't even a knob on the inside. He'd already tested it. The door had no more give than any of the rest of the room. He couldn't even hear the locks jingle from inside.

He learned his shadows from that one single lightbulb fixated right in the center of the ceiling, far too high for him to even jump to reach. It never went off. The lights were always there, so much so that Ed honestly didn't know, anymore, how long he'd been there, or when it was night and he should try to sleep- it was just always there. Searing into his mind, eating past his eyelids.

Even with his eyes shut, it was there.

So he learned to watch those shadows from it, because it was all he had.

He learned very well how to use the walls to manage to get himself up into a sitting position, which was a little more comfortable than lying down and a lot less humiliating. He even perfected standing, and even though it was impossibly hard he perfected a method for hopping around the room, following the walls and turning in a perfect square with each perfectly measured step.

It was all he had to do.

He learned his straitjacket, too. His brand new garments because he wasn't trusted even in this tiny, padded room not to hurt himself, even though he'd _never_ hurt himself before- but, he was ' _upset'._ He had to be ' _restrained'._ He had to _'behave'._ So he learned his straitjacket, too, learned it just as much as everything else in his tiny room. He learned how the sleeves tied behind him so tight he could barely move his hand. He learned how his elbow and shoulders started to hurt, but trying to stretch or roll them around just didn't work because he _could not_ move them. He learned how the buckles all cinched around him; he counted, even. Eight, in total; six on his back, one on his stomach, and then another around his wrist, as if the jacket was not enough to his arm restrained.

He learned how it felt when those nurses came in to make sure he was still alive and checked on him, although that was all that they did. They tried to speak with him sometimes, all calming questions like _how are you feeling?_ and _have you decided to behave yet?,_ but Ed didn't ever dare let himself back speak back. He wouldn't condone this. He wouldn't answer back as if this was something he had deserved or earned, like it was fucking _helping_ him.

He _wouldn't._

The nurses still came, injecting him with all sorts of things. Nutrients and fluids, probably, since they'd never let him eat. More of that shit medication from before, probably, because he felt weird a lot of the time, and almost always after the nurses came by. They checked on the restraints, too, tugging on the straps and folds as if he could've somehow gotten free.

They never talked to him, though. Not even in the beginning, when he still had tried talking to them.

Never seemed to even look him in the eye.

One day, moving her hands around and around him for her inspection, Ann let out a little startled _oh,_ and then, "Ah, look at this, it's getting loose-" and then, with no further warning except her sweet smile, one of the straps was pulled tight and buckled even tighter, so tight the wind was knocked out of him.

He supposed he should've counted himself lucky they hadn't buckled a collar around his throat, too. If they were going to tie him up like a misbehaving animal, why not leash and collar him like one, too?

A tiny chuckle stumbled out from behind his clenched teeth. A tiny, hysterical, almost mad chuckle.

The nurses looked at each other, shaking their heads sadly. The strap was pulled a little bit tighter.

He was left alone again.

He laughed again.

* * *

It was a couple days, he figured, before the drugs they were giving him changed.

Before, it had probably been just nutrients and fluids, maybe something else mild, but that was it. Then, several days in, it just changed, to what they normally gave them to _calm down-_ the shit they'd given Roy, that first night, the regimen they'd both managed to avoid this week until now.

It was damn intentional, and he knew it.

He recognized them new drugs only because he was so familiar with them already.

They were supposed to be a punishment, he knew- and supposed it fit; no matter what they'd said, this padded cell wasn't a treatment to make him behave, it was a punishment for _mis_ behaving- but Ed found himself welcoming it, as he lay there on the padded floor, letting the terrible, biting heat and bugs under his skin sensations wash over him, the sting of pain and the hallucinations to come.

This was better than the _nothing_ he'd had to contend with before, after all.

* * *

The first thing Ed saw, was the woman.

The black flesh and bones monster, the thing with skin that sloughed but clung to her head so tightly it was practically just a skull, with her gleaming, bleeding red eyes and rotting teeth that slipped and fell out of her formless mouth. The creature that sat in a pile on the floor and breathed like a snake hissing, who touched him with a thin, freezing hand, a hand so thin it was just bones, whose neck was cracked sideways and spine broken, who was only human by the long brown of her blood matted hair.

The creature that had haunted him every time the nurses had tied him down and drugged him- and most of the time, even without the drugs, haunting his sleep in nightmares anyway.

She'd terrified him, the first time he'd seen her.

And many of the times after it, if he was being really honest with himself.

Right now, though, he'd known it was coming, just _known,_ on some deep, undeniable level- and between her, and watching those identical, padded walls close in around him and crush tight-

He'd take the woman.

The _woman_ , though he had no idea how or why he was so sure that was what she was.

"Please," he whispered squeezing his eyes shut. "Please just leave me alone."

He _heard_ her moving closer; it was impossible, it was insane, he knew she wasn't real at all but he could still _hear_ her slipping and slithering to him, frail bones cracking, the cold slick of wet blood wiped over the padded floor. "But," she called to him, in that creaking, croaking death rattle, "you don't want to be alone anymore. That's why I came."

Ed just kept his eyes shut.

"...No," he gasped out, when he'd finally managed to keep his voice steady. He was half terrified, but wouldn't let himself yank away; not in this straitjacket when all he'd do was make a fool of himself. To something that wasn't even _real._ "You showed up because they drugged me. That's it."

She laughed warmly, and that was terrifying, too. "You were always such a smart boy, Ed," she told him. "So very smart," and it took every fiber of his being not to pull away screaming.

He _hated_ this. He _hated_ her. He hated _seeing her_ so many times, he hated seeing this nightmare creature who spoke to him like she knew him, he hated feeling like his brain was pouring out his ears because he was goddamn crazy, there was no other explanation, there was _none,_ he was a fucking lunatic locked in a padded cell talking to nightmare thin air and-

And he knew she cared about him.

If... if she'd ever been _real..._

She'd once cared about him.

He knew that. That was a fact.

...wasn't it...?

Ed swallowed tightly, his heart caught in a stranglehold in his chest as it pounded in sheer terror and disbelief, and this time he couldn't help it anymore and pressed himself back against the wall, squirming as much as he could to just get away. There was no point thinking about this; he'd never know and he'd never be sure and he'd never accomplish anything while he was locked in his room and she was sitting right there with him. There was another hiss and crackle of bone, her moving forwards again, and this time his eyes were wrenched open because he just couldn't keep them closed anymore.

He kept his head turned away as severely as he could, perversely thankful the straitjacket left him at least that much. He kept his back pressed against the wall and his head turned away so all he could see was her hair, that blessedly _normal_ hair.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw another one of her teeth fall limply and clatter to the ground, landing in blood.

"I'm sorry," he blurted out.

She moved closer again, not touching him yet, just close enough for him to glimpse the black, bleeding nightmare that she was beyond her human hair. "What for, sweetheart?"

His breath caught in his throat again, so harsh he nearly bled with the pain of it.

She _always_ called him that.

Why did he trust her?

Why did he _know her?_

"I d-don't know," he stammered miserably, shutting his eyes again. "But I am. I'm- I'm really, _really_ sorry. Does that make sense?" He stopped, then laughed weakly, shaking his head at himself as he let himself slump back against the wall, lost and insane. "I'm s-sorry, I- I don't have a fucking clue why I'm even asking. You're not _real!"_

There was another cold, still silence, broken only by the hissing rattle of her breath.

"It does make sense," she told him quietly after a moment, and her voice was just as warm as her laugh.

Ed turned his face even more away, twisted so much it hurt his neck, and fought to keep his eyes shut and his ears closed until the drugs wore off, and she was gone.

* * *

The woman wasn't the only one he saw.

She was the only one who spoke to him- but she wasn't the only one.

They came back after the second or third round of drugs, the nurses always returning to redose him a little while after they'd worn off, not speaking to him, not saying a word. The lights stayed on, searing through him first when the nurses were there, his head pounding and his body freezing and his stomach hurting and faintly nauseated, then still searing through them hours later when the nurses were gone- but the creatures who existed only in his mind came back.

He was sick and exhausted the whole time, but had long ago given up trying to figure out when it was night, so he could try to sleep. He didn't even have a clue what day it was, anymore.

But the woman came, again- and this time she came with others, others that he'd seen before, others that he still didn't know. Others who couldn't be real, just like the woman couldn't be real, others who made no _sense;_ a dog with metal limbs, a girl he couldn't see but could just barely hear her yelling, a giant, hollow suit of armor that stood with its back to him and never once spoke-

None of it could be real, but it... it h _ad_ to be. It just...

It _had to be._

He tried not to look at him but thy followed him around the room, somehow _there_ even when he curled as much as he could and pressed his face against the wall. The nightmare woman, though-

She just watched him, and smiled.

And she fucking terrified him, as much as he- trusted her.

Ed was scared to death of her, but somehow, on some level... he trusted her.

He trusted her miles more than the goddamn nurses, but that was no surprise- but he trusted her more than _anyone._ More than- than _Roy._ He didn't have a clue who or _what_ she was but some part of him just knew to trust her.

God, he had fucking lost his mind.

"You shouldn't ignore us, Ed," the thing told him quietly; he could almost hear the rotting smile on her voice. "We're just here to help you."

"You're not fucking helping me! You-" He broke off, gasping, then just squeezed his eyes shut, trying to breathe. The darkness didn't help, not with the white pressing in all around him, the white that was all there was and was always _there._ "I don't know any of you."

The dog barked somewhere in his ears, the girl laughed, the suit of armor stood silent. The bloody woman, though, smiled again; he saw her hair shift again in the corner of his eye. "You do. You do, Ed... not consciously, perhaps- but some level of you remembers us."

Ed tried and utterly failed to muster another sense of calm; his heart was pounding so fast he'd forgotten how to breathe. He tugged miserably at the straitjacket, just wanting the freedom to stretch his hand out, to _move,_ but there was nothing except a whimper in his throat and laughter in his head.

He didn't remember them.

He'd tried, as hard as he fucking could, he'd _tried-_

But every single time, it felt like ramming his head again a brick wall.

Looking at that rotting, not dead corpse of a woman, he wasn't so sure he even _wanted_ to remember...

"But you need to, sweetheart," the woman cajoled gently, and Ed had given up being scared a _long_ fucking time ago that she responded to things only in his own head. "You have things you have to do- people you have to protect- friends who care for you. There's _so much_ you have to do." She gestured for him, to the metal-limbed dog and the girl he couldn't see and the metal armor that never faced him; Ed's heart skipped another few beats, squeezing tightly in his chest with emotion he couldn't identify.

"W-why... why doesn't he talk to me?" he whispered, staring up at the silent, unmoving giant, the armor that he could see even from here was hollow. It was just a museum display, just an ancient suit set up against the wall to collect dust and be forgotten- but- but he _knew_ that wasn't true! It was empty but it meant something to him- it meant some _one!_ "Why don't you talk to me?!" he cried, stretching against the jacket-

And the armor didn't move an inch or say a word.

Again, it was that rotting woman who spoke to him in that warm death rattle, that sweet, kind croak. "You have to remember."

"I'm _trying!_ I'm trying but I _can't!_ " he fought miserably against the restraints again, staring up at the cold armor- god it was so _empty_ he could see the night sky through it, cold stars and a colder moon and an even colder black sky, the sky that was as empty as the armor itself- the armor was empty, why did he hate that, why did he hate to look at that?! _"I can't remember! I'm sorry!"_

"That's right," she comforted warmly again, comforted him when the armor refused to move. "You can't remember."

"I'm- s-sorry, I- I can't-"

"Not while you're still here."

His breath caught again, and this time he almost- _almost-_ looked at her. He stopped himself just in time, wrenching back away so he could see the empty armor and the sky through it and not her, just her hair, always just her long, brown, _familiar_ human hair. "What _..._ b-but... but I can't just- just leave! I- I want to get out of here, I want to get back to Roy, I need to find Al- I need to find out who Al _is-_ but I-"

"You need to use the array, Ed. You know what you have to do, to get out of here- to find Al, and get back to Roy. You have to use the array... that's all you have to do."

 _"NO!"_ he shouted, wrenching away in terror, gasping, shaking his head back and forth all over again. That array- that terrible, wrong, _wrong_ array- "no, I can't, stop, I can't do that-"

"Why can't you?" she stopped him, slow and comforting. Reassuring. Terrifying. "There's nothing stopping you, Ed. You can use it, I know you can-"

"It's wrong! It's wrong! I can't! _No!"_

"But why?"

 _"I don't know!"_

She nodded to him again, a warm smile reflected in the cold, empty armor. "Exactly, sweetheart."

There was a long, horrible moment of silence; it was so cold he could see her breath mist in the air. See the black blood slick and freeze on the padded floor.

Her slimy, bony finger touched his face, and he just could not stop himself from crying out.

"Everything's wrong here, Ed," she told him quietly. "That array is the least of it. And if you want to try and make any of this right again... you need to get through this, and use it. You need to get out of here." She gave him one last horrifying smile, he heard the teeth crumble together, and ran her finger down his face one last time, he heard it disintegrate into failing tissue and blood- and pulled away.

"I believe in you," he heard her, a final whisper, and then she was gone- the words echoing against the emptiness of the armor and the night sky.

* * *

 _The array.  
_

 _It was the array, that Justin had given him._

 _That he wasn't supposed to use._

 _That was wrong._

 _The suit of armor was beside him, and there was another woman there, a dark-haired woman that paced and he flinched with every step she took. "The second law of alchemy," she was lecturing, and he pulled away but couldn't move, couldn't do anything but stare at the circle. "This is the second law of alchemy. Man's law. This circle, here," and it slammed into him like a truck, "you are not to use it, ever. Alchemist, be thou for the people- and not for themselves. Do I make myself clear?"_

 _The second law of alchemy..._

 _The suit of armor, as always, said nothing. Did nothing._

 _Like he was as dead as he was empty._

 _The second law of alchemy..._

 _"I said-" she shouted, and her fist came towards him, "do I make myself clear?!"_

 _"YES!" he shouted, curling back, trying to hide his face, but his arm wouldn't move-_

 _The second law of alchemy..._

 _Then the circle was gone, and all that was left was the armor, and the woman._

 _"Good," she said quietly. Looked down at him again. "The second law of alchemy is man's law. It's not science or alchemy that forbids it, but our own society and morality." She paused slightly, and it felt as if she was looking down to his very soul._

 _Ed gulped._

 _"The first law," she went on finally, "is different. This is forbidden by the universe itself. It violates every foundation of our world." She approached him, and then the suit of armor was gone, it was just him, and she moved closer and closer, leaning down, eye to eye, hand reaching out- "If you break the second law, I'll bury you myself. If it is the first law you break, Edward..."_

 _The world flipped, and her face became the rotting corpse of the brown-haired, smiling woman._

 _"There won't be enough of you left to bury," she told him, grinning as she bled, and Ed screamed._

White exploded, and padded cell slammed back into his eyes like he'd just been punched across the face.

He lay there gasping, his bearings so far away there was no point in even trying to grasp them. His back and shoulders and arm _hurt._ He- the woman was-

...just a dream...

Just a... a dream...

He coughed and gasped again, trembling on the floor, sweating, and just fought not to close his eyes again or think.

The black nightmare woman, for once, wasn't there, and Ed supposed he should just be grateful for what little mercies he did have.

 _Justin's array..._

 _The second law of alchemy..._

* * *

"I'm sorry," the woman told him one night. Day. Whatever.

Ed had learned very well, by this point, how to look at her without looking. He could lean just so against the corner, have his head tilted just the right way, and he could just make out her outline without looking closer and realizing it was a monster that sat a foot away from him and smiled with rotted teeth. Usually, she was even nice enough to let him keep up the facade.

...Sometimes, she was nice enough.

When she apologized to him, he just tried to shrug, then gasped, the pain from the restricting jacket enough to make him want to curl up and never consider moving ever again. He gritted his teeth, waiting, shivering, tensing, waiting- when the pain had finally fallen back to just that dull throb that never left him anymore, he let himself smile instead, shaking his head carefully without daring to move his shoulders. "Now my hallucinations are apologizing to _me._ Fucking great. What are you even apologizing _for?_ I'm the one who should be fucking sorry."

He didn't know _why,_ of course. Just that he should be. And was.

Really, really sorry.

She shook her head, laughing again, human hair sweeping over crumbling shoulders. "I'm sorry this is happening to you," she said simply, like it made all the sense in the world, and Ed's reality rocked again.

He hesitated, biting his lip. "...You're... y-you're _not_ real... right?"

He heard her warm laugh again, a sound so vibrant he couldn't believe a creature like her could make it without falling apart. "Of course I'm not. You already knew that, sweetheart."

His heart skipped another beat.

"N... no," he stammered, when he could speak again. He swallowed, trying to remember what calm was. No hospital. Roy, hugging him, wrapping a blanket around him to keep him warm. No hospital. Al. Al, Roy, _not here..._ "No, I mean... you _can't_ have been real. Ever. Not just now; you're- you're not _possible._ I couldn't have ever seen you... I..." He laughed again, trembling violently. "If r-remember you, I- I have to be fucking crazy, right? I mean, look at me! I'm..."

Once again, she smiled at him.

Smiled at him from an inch away.

Ed screamed, kicking back and throwing himself away, pressing his face into the floor as he wrenched back but he saw her smiling, still, saw nothing but her rotting face and crumbing teeth and huge, bloody eyes. "You know you're not crazy, Ed. Why are you asking me? Why are you doubting yourself now, when you've been so sure up until now?"

"Stop! _Stop!_ I- _please-"_ he yanked away, fighting the restraining jacket in a panic, just wanting to hide his face in his arms and never see again but she kept _following him,_ chasing him back into the corner, she was touching him, slimy cold hands on his face, _"STOP IT! PLEASE!"_

"If you're so sure you're not crazy, Ed, if you're so sure you and Roy are sane- why are you doubting yourself at all?" She smiled at him, a loving smile on a dead face, and wrapped her horrifying arms around him in a feverish hug. "I love you, sweetheart," she promised, and pressed her bleeding lips and crumbling teeth to his forehead.

* * *

By the time she was gone, his throat hurt from screaming.

* * *

The nurses came in again.

Something in Ed shuddered at their appearance, knowing what was to come; more injections to bring the pain and hallucinations back, more humiliating manhandling, if he was particularly unlucky they'd pull the straps even tighter again- whatever it was, he didn't want it. He shivered in his restraints, bile swimming in his stomach, and just couldn't stop himself from flinching a little bit back as the pair walked in to face him. He glared down at the white floor, refusing to give them the respect of even looking at their fucking faces.

The nurses, however... stopped.

"Edward?" one asked quietly.

He felt his face contort into a quiet sort of snarl and kept his eyes on the ground. No. He wasn't even going to fucking look at them.

He didn't care that they were talking to him after days or weeks or _whatever_ of silence. He didn't give a damn. He wouldn't let himself get sucked in again.

"Edward, we'd like to see if you're ready to behave yet. You've been very good, so far- we think you've earned a few of your privileges back. Would you like to eat something?"

No. He wasn't going to look at them. Wasn't going to answer. Wasn't even going to fucking _flinch_ at their goddammed presence-

...Food?

Another gasp caught in his teeth. Before he'd even made the decision to, his head jerked back up.

It was both of the nurses, the same ones as always, both standing there, the door shut behind them like it always was. And one stood there with the same usual array of needles as before, but the other-

The other bore a small tray.

A tray of food.

Instinct drove him up off the wall, craning up almost desperately towards what he'd so long been denied, and out of nowhere, a cold, painful hunger started to gnaw at his gut.

The nurses both smiled at him, as if pleased. "I see you're interested in cooperating with us again," the one bearing the food- _food, he could finally eat something- food-!-_ said, lowering herself carefully to sit down, cross-legged, on the padded floor. He couldn't remember their names- he'd forgotten which one was which, everything he remembered was just a sickening blur cloaked by drugs, but it didn't matter, because- "That's very good, Edward. If you do well today, we'll even take you back to your old room. How does that sound?"

He was barely even listening to her, nodding along with whatever she was saying as he looked down desperately towards the little tray. It looked horrible, a little bowl of cold soup and an even smaller package of crackers, horrible even by this hospital's standards but he wanted it- he wanted it so bad-

Ed was so enraptured by the sudden offering he didn't even realize what the nurses' intentions were until he realized he was about to be offered a bite. Shame washed over his face again and he leaned back, cringing against the wall- and how embarrassing was it that he could still feel embarrassment like this, after all they'd put him through in this room, how insane he had to look right now- but he _could_ and all he knew as the woman raised the spoon towards him was that he didn't want this.

"N-no-" he croaked, his first word to them in- in how long had he been in here...? "No, wait, I- I can do it myself. Please?" He jerked his arm a little again, trying to indicate his restraints without having to say it. "Please, if you'll just let me go?"

The nurse without the food gave him another pitying look. "Oh, I'm afraid we can't do that just yet, Edward."

Panic and longing both beat in equal parts inside of him. "But I-"

"Edward, remember, we had to leave you in here because you weren't behaving, right? This is how we see if you've calmed down," she told him soothingly, again like he was just a little, misbehaving child. "If you let us help you now, we can see that you're ready to behave again, and we can know it's safe for us to let you out of that thing." She nodded at the tight straitjacket with another pitying look, like she hadn't forced him into it in the first place, like it was his fault it was on him and all she'd ever wanted was just to take it off. "But we don't know you're ready to behave just yet, and if we let you out before you're ready, you might hurt yourself or one of us. You understand why we can't risk that, don't you, Edward?" she asked, smiling sweetly. "We just want what's best for you, okay?"

"Right," her partner said, lifting up the spoon of broth again. "If you just let us help you, we'll know you're ready to behave again. Edward?" She proffered it a little to him, still smiling encouragingly.

Hot, sickened humiliation washed over his face again and he couldn't help but cringe back, almost ill. What? No... somehow, _that_ was the line he couldn't cross. No. He'd been shoved into a straitjacket and thrown into little padded room like he was a madman, he had those nurses looked down at him so pityingly every single day, he should've had no pride left to lose, but this- this was it. He couldn't just sit there and let himself be spoonfed. Every fiber of his being rebelled desperately against it. He _couldn't._

Because it was willing- that was what it was. Everything else he'd had no consent in, so he could still keep his one and only comfort in that he knew this wasn't his choice. That he _wasn't_ crazy, and this shit _wasn't_ helping him, and while he didn't yet understand what was going on he knew what he was being told was a lie and that he didn't fucking deserve this.

But... but if he just sat there, and nodded, and- and participated... if he didn't fight them, and instead actually _accepted_ what they were doing to him... if it was willing...

He couldn't.

He couldn't do it.

"I... wait, please..." he fumbled out, mind still at a blank and a loss for words. "Wait- please, just let me go, I can do it myself- please-"

"Edward, we just explained to you why that's not an option."

"But I-"

The nurses both sighed together, sadly, again, always sadly, and the one with the food stood up. "We can see you need a little bit more time in here to learn your lesson. That's quite disappointing, Edward. We'll be back to try again tomorrow."

"Wait! Wait, I-"

It was too late. She was gone.

Ed started desperately at the already shut door, his one glimpse of freedom, then looked back to Ann who was still shaking her sadly and preparing a needle. He licked his lips frantically, already wracking his mind for how best to try and convince her. " _Please,_ just take this off, just let me-"

"You had your chance," she said coldly, and didn't even try to ask his consent before sticking the needle into his shoulder again.

* * *

That night- later that day- Ed no longer had any sense of time anymore- he saw the woman again.

"You're still here," she told him, or maybe he was just the one that thought it, a slippery slithering voice that creaked and groaned like a death rattle.

He wanted anything more than to have the freedom to bury his face in his hand and never see again.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I- can't-"

"Why are you still here? You shouldn't be- they gave you the chance to leave."

Panic burned in his mind again, panic and guilt; he shook his head over and over, jerking it back and forth, then threw it back against the awful padded wall as hard as he could; it didn't even fucking _hurt._ "I... I can't do it. I'm sorry, I should've, that's just- _n-no-"_

Her red eyes gleamed like blood, and all she knew was that it looked _sad._ "You have things you need to do. Someone you need to take care of. You can't do that from in here, Ed."

The lump came back to his throat again, so tight he could barely breathe. Before he knew it, tears had filled his eyes, and even as he fought against the restraints he knew was helpless to even rub them away for them to stream down his cheeks. A black claw of an arm stroked them away, and Ed screamed.

They sat there like for minutes, Ed bound and helpless and crying, and he _knew_ he was alone, but that didn't dispel the monster stroking his face, and he'd never felt fucking crazier in his life.

"I..." His breaths hitched brokenly again and Ed ducked his head, trembling and choking. "I w-want to go _home."_

She smiled at him, and two of her teeth fell out.

"I know, sweetheart," she told him gently. "And to do that, you can't be here anymore."

* * *

When the nurses came back again, the woman was gone, and Ed didn't have the strength anymore.

It was Susan holding the food again, Ann holding... those needles... He jumped when the door swung inwards, nausea and terror curling inside him, anguish burning in his throat as they approached him just like before, stopping a foot or two back to kneel on the floor and watch him like he was some mix of a feral beast and a pitiable child. "Hello again, Edward," Susan told him, watching and smiling and _oh, god, I can't stand it._ "Think we can try this again today?"

No. No. He didn't want to. Every fiber of his being wanted not to do this. He wanted out of here. He wanted to run away; to never stop wanting. He wanted to go find Roy and leave this hospital with him and- and go _home._ He didn't even know what the hell that was for him but he knew he wanted to be there more than anything in the world...

But to do that, he had to sit here and do this.

Slowly, almost gasping, Ed forced himself to nod.

The nurses exchanged an uncertain look, like back to him, equally approval and hopeful and it was horrific beyond belief and he just wanted it to _stop._

He couldn't make himself speak, not even Susan rose to her feet, this time to come closer to him. "That's great, Edward!" she encouraged brightly, getting on her knees before him. "I'm very glad to hear it." Same food as yesterday, or _whenever,_ and first she quietly ripped through the little pack of crackers. "Let's start small first, okay? Just one of these." She held it up just nudge his chin, close enough for him to take a bite, and waited.

Horrible, horrific stillness dominated.

Nothing happened.

A pin could've dropped and shattered the world.

Susan's smile slipped a little, and the hand prodded insistently at him again, the approval in her eyes just starting to fade into suspicion. "Edward?" she asked him again.

He didn't want this. Oh, god, he didn't. He was going to throw up. _No._

But he couldn't be here anymore.

Slowly, sickened to his core, Ed leaned forwards and bit the cracker.

It tasted like salt and sand. It hurt to chew; it hurt even worse to swallow. He couldn't look at either one of the nurses; couldn't bear to even imagine the looks on their faces. He just sat there, pathetic and immobile and utterly _helpless,_ and let her feed him.

He _wouldn't_ cry. He was better than that and he _wouldn't_ do it now. Not to them. He wouldn't give them the damn satisfaction.

His throat still felt thick.

At a point, it just felt as if Ed had somehow blocked all of it out. Like he was there, but not. His body was sitting there, eating the little bites of food proffered, but his mind had just revolted and, unable to bear it, gone somewhere far away to wait until he was over. He watched as is from a million miles away as he accepted the bites, distant and numb, and for what was far from the first time since he'd been locked in this room, he shut down to everything except what he had to do to survive.

The food slowly dwindled away, until it was gone. Now his stomach hurt, too.

Susan said something; some part of him recognized it was approving, more encouragement. She patted his shoulder, and he wanted to _vomit._

He was pathetic. Helpless, weak, undeserving. He was-

Being moved. The nurses were moving him.

Panic whiplashed through him and he almost cried out; would have, if he hadn't been paralyzed in nauseated terror. For the first time in- in days? _Weeks?-_ he was being touched, both Ann and Susan, and he started shaking; almost couldn't breathe as he sat there helplessly, complete and totally at their mercy. It took him a few seconds to realize they were taking off the straitjacket, buckle by buckle, their hands moving carefully all over him, and he couldn't stand it, it was all too much, it was unbearable, everything about this was just too much-

And then it was gone.

The straitjacket was gone.

Ed blinked. He shivered, suddenly feeling all together too vulnerable and bare, and looked down at himself. He stared.

He hadn't seen himself in... ever since he'd been locked in here. God. He almost didn't even recognize himself. All of him was caught between so numb it didn't exist and throbbing so badly he wanted to scream; his arm had deep red impressions from the restraints, furrows around his wrist so deep it didn't look human, his hand shivering agonizing as blood flow rushed back into it-

But he was free again.

For the first time, he was free.

Ed shook violently as the nurses both carefully maneuvered him upright again, bewilderingly actually grateful for the support because he would've landed flat on his face without it. He was helped, not forcefully dragged, just helped over to the door, out of his little cell to a waiting wheelchair, and this time the indignity of it didn't even register. He didn't care. He was free. They took him out of the padded room he'd been locked in for so long and the door shut behind and he was _free!_

He trembled as he was lowered into the wheelchair again, the nurses saying something to him, he didn't even know what. His mind spun and suddenly it felt as if the walls were crushing in around him, everything abruptly dangerous, everything horrifically _wrong._ He was free, but, but- oh, god. It was too much. He'd been in that little white room in that tight white jacket for too long; to suddenly be out here again- it was overwhelming to the point he couldn't even think.

Suddenly, his leg was pulled up to the wheelchair, pressed as tight as he could to his chest. He could barely move his arm, and his shoulder screamed, but he wrapped it around his leg anyway, tugging it as close as was physically possible. He buried his head in the safety of his little cocoon, almost breathlessly relieved for the chance and freedom to finally be _able_ to it. The nurses didn't exist, the unfamiliar hallways didn't exist, the wheelchair didn't exist; _nothing_ existed beyond the little ball he'd curled himself into and the terror of each and every step that they took.

 _I did it. I'm free. I'm free. I'm free but I'm still terrified. I can't breathe. I'm free. I'm free. I'm free and I'm scared. I'm free._

They pushed him onwards for a time; he didn't know how long, at once both too long and not even a second. Through more doors, through more strange halls he didn't know; Ed was way fucking past the point that he couldn't handle it and just stayed shut down, letting them push him all the way into oblivion.

Until eventually, he stopped moving.

Ed kept his head down, just incapable of facing anything else. He didn't resist as the nurses started to lift him up again, taking him out of the wheelchair to lower him down to the freezing floor; they didn't force him to unfurl and that was all that mattered to him right now. He stayed where he was put, gasping into his knee and keeping his eyes shut, and when their hands retreated, he was too shaken to even feel relieved.

But like all things in this place, however, the luxury to be even close to at peace was short-lived.

"Well, here we are again, Edward- try two. Are you participate in the treatment this time?"

The trembling continued. He still felt sick. He still could barely think.

But those words were enough to wrench him straight back to the present.

That doctor. Justin.

Ed whipped his head up out of his arms before he'd even comprehended what that meant.

He was back in the room from before. The room with array- where everything had gone wrong. The same array as before. Too big, too complicated, too black, too much; the same stone sitting right in the center of it. The nurses behind him with the wheelchair.

And Justin, standing right outside of the circle, looking down at him.

Waiting.

Ed balked.

Justin watched him expectantly, no patience or room for failure in his eyes, just standing there over him-

And there was that circle.

Bad. Wrong. Dangerous. He shouldn't. He wasn't supposed to. It was wrong. Wrong, wrong, _wrong._ Second law of alchemy. _WRONG._

Just like last time...

 _If you mess up they'll do it to you again. They'll put you back in the wheelchair and take you back to the padded room and put you in the straitjacket and leave you. They'll just leave you there. They won't even give you another chance for weeks. You'll be back there. Again. Forever._

 _They're going to take you back there._

He heard the woman's death rattle in his mind again, the hiss and creak of _you have to find Al,_ and again saw the white padded walls crushing in around him until he couldn't breathe.

"Well, Edward?" Justin asked him once more. "Are you ready to behave?"

 _I can't-_

 _I can't-_

 _I CAN'T-_

He threw himself forwards, a sob building in his throat, and slammed his hand down straight into the array.


	6. Chapter 6

Thank you all so much for reviewing! Now- let's rewind a bit, and see what Roy has been up to, while Ed's been... yeah :D

* * *

When Roy got back from the ice bath, hugging himself and shivering, Ed was nowhere to be seen.

Not on the couch. Not back in either one of their rooms. There wasn't even an empty wheelchair around.

There was absolutely no sign of him.

Roy hesitated, chewing nervously on the quick of his thumb, and tried to stay calm.

This didn't mean anything. Right? Maybe this new treatment just- took longer. Whatever it was. Maybe it just took longer. Right?

Really, what else was it supposed to be? He laughed nervously to himself, shivering even harder as he just stood there in the middle of the room, staring around at the deserted walls. Of course it was just the new treatment taking a little bit longer. Shouldn't it anyway, if it was more effective, like the nurses had said? It made perfect sense for it to take a little longer for him to get back.

He'd be back sooner or later. Sooner rather than later. He would.

Still shivering, now trying not to nervously chew at his thumbnail, Roy grabbed a blanket from one of their rooms, headed back out to the couch, and sat down to wait.

* * *

Ed never came.

* * *

By the time the nurses finally showed up again, surely hours late, Roy's stomach had twisted itself into tight, anxious knots, and he was shivering harder than ever. He nearly jumped to his feet the second he saw them, too nervous to be relieved, reaching out with a trembling hand-

Then stopped, when he saw Ed wasn't with them.

They were completely alone, and Ed just- wasn't there.

The pair approached him the way they always did, all smiles, all charm, as if everything was okay and Ed wasn't just _gone._ "Roy," Ann told him, leading the way, and he could see the patronizing hint to her smile as clearly as if she'd screamed it at him, "time to go to bed, now. Let's go."

He was, regretfully, rather used to be treated like this by now; as much as it irked him to just grit his teeth and move on- well, he had more important things to focus on now, didn't he, anyway? "Where's Ed?" he asked, allowing her to all but force him up to his feet. He leaned around her as if Ed might just pop out from behind the pair, then looked nervously back towards the locked door as if Ed might suddenly appear from behind it. "Is he... is he okay?"

The hand on his elbow didn't loosen, and the fake, plastic smile on her face didn't waver an inch. "He's perfectly fine. Just taking some time adjusting to his treatment, is all. Come on, now, Roy." She pulled him a little more firmly down the hallway, hand tightening in a way that was like he was a dog being pulled on a leash- and Roy was left with no choice but to worry, and comply.

Some time _adjusting?_ He doubted that. What the hell did that even mean? Surely, if he'd taken ill or something- well, this was a _hospital._ They could've just taken Ed back to his room, right? Or at least... _something,_ other than this. But then...

Roy shook his head at himself weakly, forcing a smile and calmness. No, no- what was he doing? He was sounding just like Ed, now. Whatever this new treatment was, it had only been for Ed's own benefit, right? And if it had made him worse, or hadn't worked somehow, then they wouldn't do it again, would they? Right, he had to just calm down, now... as much as he didn't like this place, as much as he wanted Ed back _here_ with him where he could keep an eye on him, as potentially appealing as it was to think of these nurses as working against them- that wouldn't help anything, right?

Besides, Ed would be back soon... he could just talk to him about it then.

He reluctantly let the nurses shepherd him back into his own room, accepting the medication they handed him to swallow without thought, hiding the sleeping pill under his tongue. He watched uncomfortably as the lights were flicked out, hands wringing together in his lap as the nurses stepped out, one by one, and shut the door behind them-

Again, leaving him alone.

Roy fidgeted nervously again.

Where the _hell_ was Ed?

* * *

He sat up that entire night, blanket clutched tightly around his shoulders, and waited.

The nurses very rarely came to check on them at night, from what he'd seen so far. He was able to just sit there in the uncomfortable hospital bed, shivering miserably, and wait- listening for even the faintest sound from out in that hallway that meant someone was there. He even found himself tiptoeing outside twice, hands trembling as he slipped back down to Ed's room-

But it was completely, almost terrifyingly, empty.

Roy lingered worriedly in the doorway, staring down at the empty hospital bed. The blankets were even still rumpled.

Ed just wasn't there.

He hesitated, swallowing tightly.

Then, with a muttered curse, Roy hurried forward, grabbing the threadbare blanket off the bed to yank it after himself as he bolted out the door and hurried back down to his own room again, dragging it just as tightly around his shoulders as his own.

For when Ed came back, he told himself. Ed had it much worse than he did; he was so much smaller than him, the cold always hit him so much harder, and it lasted longer, too, and the worst part was always when they just got back, the blankets still empty and cold... maybe if he used it now, he could have it warm when Ed came back- although that wasn't relevant now, was it? They'd started Ed on some new treatment, so there was no guarantee they'd even used ice on him at all, he might be totally fine now- except he _wasn't_ fine, because he wasn't _here,_ and-

Roy moaned, burying his face in his hands. Then, in a burst of frustrated worry, he jerked a hand out to grab Ed's blanket and dragged it to join his own, curling into himself underneath them, and tried to just keep breathing.

He'd be fine. He was sure of it. Just fine.

...Where _was_ he?

* * *

Roy had no way of telling time. But he imagined it was around two or three in the morning, when he finally caved in to drooping eyelids, the cold, the drugs, and _exhaustion_ to slump back against the headboard, and fall asleep.

The next morning, he was entirely unsurprised to be shaken awake from his still upright position by a perturbed Susan, and not jolted away by Ed.

Worried still, of course... worried _worse..._ but not surprised.

"Is Ed okay?" he asked again, rushing to get the question in before she'd managed to hand him the morning's dose of pills. He shifted anxiously, still cold hands trembling under the blankets.

She waved away his question like it was a buzzing fly, pressing the medication into his palm and just offhandedly dismissing him in the same breath. "Don't you worry about him, Roy."

 _Ha,_ Roy remarked silently, as she nudged his hand closer to his mouth. _Too late._

* * *

Roy lasted about an hour into one day, anxiously tapping his foot the entire time and trying not to lose it, before he gave in, and headed back to Ed's room.

He grabbed the hidden notes Ed had been stashing in here- and, that Ed had been mostly responsible for transcribing, if he really thought about it. It was a bit of a risk to study them out in the open, but he was relatively confident he'd be able to flip them over to an innocent sheet of doodles quick enough, if one of the nurses came snooping, and if Ed wasn't here with him, he might as well make _some_ progress, and...

And Roy really was going stir crazy just sitting there with nothing to do. He desperately needed _something_ to focus on other than Ed, or he really was going to lose his goddamn mind.

He couldn't help but feel just the least bit selfish, though, as he crept back out towards the couch he normally shared with Ed, papers clutched in still trembling hands. After all, he'd only been alone for... what? Half a day, maybe? If that? Well- how long had _Ed_ been alone here? It was hard to accurately measure the time, as Roy himself had experienced, and Ed seemed like the type to underplay things, so who really knew- but Roy's best guess was that Ed had been here for _weeks_ like this. Nothing and nobody there with him, nothing to do but let the nurses drag and tie him down into an ice bath, or drug him down into oblivion in the middle of the night and leave him there to suffer.

He'd just been sitting here, all alone. Going through that.

For _weeks._

Roy's fists clenched so tightly around the paper he nearly tore the first sheet, and he found the carefully sketched image of the ink on their backs crinkled to all ruin.

Was it really so surprising Ed was paranoid, angry, and... well, if the hospital was to be believed... a little crazy? Left by himself, and undeniably suffering, for that long?

Roy sent another dark glare around the small, lonely room, crinkling the sheets in his fists again.

He could hardly blame him. Roy found himself going a little crazy with worry already, and it hadn't even been a day.

* * *

Despite Roy's best hopes- and exactly in line with his worst worries-

Ed did not come back.

He sat through the ice bath silently on the first day, or as silently as he could manage to, only allowing himself to ask, once again, _is Ed okay?_ His answer was as stubbornly vague and unhelpful as he'd learned to expect, and when Roy finally found himself curled up back in his bed, shivering under two layers of blankets, rubbing at sore wrists and ankles, he was no more informed than before, and about twice as worried. That night passed much the same as the one before it had, too; he couldn't let himself sleep until early morning, and when he finally did slip backwards into dreams, it was an uneasy sleep that he jolted out of every few minutes.

Once again, he ended up heading down to check on Ed's room more than once, and was just as disappointed every single time that he found it empty.

The next day passed just as the last had, except perhaps more infuriatingly slowly and just _lonely._ No one answered ever bothered to answer his questions, and Ed, still, never showed.

That similarly sleepless night, the nightmares started.

The third day- Roy was keeping a tally on the sheets of tattoo sketches, by this point- he set his focus on trying to find out about Ed again, but this time, in a different way. He decided to wait until he'd managed to get Susan alone; she was the younger of the pair, seemingly more inexperienced, and if he had to manipulate one of them, he'd put his bets on her. So he bit his tongue and sat there like a good patient and he waited, because he didn't have another choice.

And luck was with him that day, when Susan was the one who came along to make him go to another _treatment._

Inwardly both relieved and anxious, that anxiety that had been present and growing since day one cresting into an almost undeniable storm as he watched the straps be drawn tightly around first his wrists, then his ankles. He was regretfully used to it by now, and knew from everything that Ed had told him fighting back was a bad idea- but thinking about Ed had him even more distressed all over again, leaving Roy to clench his jaw and watch the nurse and wait, until he felt the moment was right to speak up.

"I-is Ed ok-k-kay?" he stuttered finally.

Susan, half-distracted by checking the strap around his left foot, stopped.

"Roy," she told him, but kept her face turned away, "we've told you, haven't we? Ed's perfectly fine."

His instincts had been right. Roy knew, his eyes narrowed, staring harder up at the woman, that she was lying to him.

It was the same answer he'd already been given, but this time, alone like this- maybe his own vulnerable position had something to do with it, he didn't know- but he could see that she was a liar. The hesitant shadow of her face, the way she wouldn't look at him fully, her uncertain smile...

Roy glared harder at her, his shivering, aching body tensing and his anxiety growing.

She was _lying._

Susan shifted uncomfortably, still averting her eyes but quite plainly aware she was being stared at now, shifting in a way that made her lie more and more obvious by the second. She laughed weakly, still staring downwards, and gave the strap around his ankle an unnecessary tug that had him gritting his teeth in pain and clenching his fist is restrained fury, but then- "Roy, you really should just stop asking about him anyway. You- you know we can't discuss other patients with you, don't you? Besides, you should just be focusing on getting better! Let us worry about Ed!"

Roy glared harder. Every instinct of his shivering, sore body screamed against her, and he suddenly found himself perversely grateful for the straps, for stopping him from doing something he would regret.

 _I would,_ he thought bitterly, _if you hadn't given me every reason to not trust you with him._

 _I would, if you hadn't already proven I can take far better care of him than you._

"R-right," he bit out tensely through chattering teeth, and narrowed his eyes again.

Roy wasn't sure how far to push this now, unfortunately. He didn't exactly have any way to _force_ the information out of her, bar breaking free and heading after her in a fist fight, and somehow, Roy just didn't envision that ending well. He'd already gotten more than he'd expected out of today, even if the knowledge, the proof, the _truth_ that Ed was not okay made his stomach twist and his hands shake and his screaming body stiffen with something near terror... besides, maybe his current position of being freezing, in pain, and _miserable_ was biasing things- but he didn't dare want to try anything now.

He was close to losing it enough as it was. He really... _really..._ didn't want to make things worse for himself than they already were.

But- but shouldn't he? If Ed was worse off than he was right now- shouldn't he risk everything if it might help? If Ed was being hurt so much worse than he was right now, it was just selfish to try and protect himself when-

But what good would it do _Ed?_ If he fought back now, it might, _might,_ bring him some more information, maybe peace of mind- but that was it. It wouldn't help _Ed._ In fact, it could even make things worse for him.

Roy groaned, tensing miserably even more against the restraints. His body _hurt._ He couldn't think. He couldn't- _wait..._

His eyes widened.

 _Wait..._

"W-what about- I mean... _is_ t-there s-s-someone?" he stammered, staring up at her. This time, his words just got an innocent blink of a confusion, signalling misunderstanding rather than a refusal to tell him, and Roy hurried to get the words out. "Y-you said you... c-c-couldn't t-tell me. But he has... _s-someone_ asking about h-him... doesn't he? L-like... like a... f-family, right?"

After all, there was very little Roy could do for him in this position, no matter what information he found out. But there did have to be someone, didn't there? Someone looking out for him. Someone who wanted him to be okay. Ed was just a child, after all- hell, where were his _parents?_ What kind of parents would just leave their child in a place like this for so long, not even coming to visit so much as one time?

There just had to be _someone._

Once again, his questions got Susan to pause. She hesitated by his feet again, face turned away, looking just like she had before- and when she finally turned to face him, her smile was just as disingenuous as before. "You know I can't tell you that, Roy," she told him, just a little bit weaker than before- and Roy's spirits fell even lower.

This time, however, he did not have the time to sit there, shiver, and be miserable.

Another terrible thought hit him before he did.

"...r-right," he murmured weakly, something in his chest clenching. He abruptly felt almost sick, so cold his body hurt and so anxious he wanted to throw up, but he couldn't look anything but desperate as he lifted his eyes up to the nurse again and went on. "What about... m-me? ...do _I_ have... s-someone?"

This time, her wince was even more obvious, and Roy's heart sunk before she'd even replied.

"We... haven't had anyone come in asking about you, Roy."

"No-" He stopped, shivering harder, then gasped, "n-no n-next of kin? N-nothing?" He sounded desperate and didn't care, because there had to be _someone_ out there who knew him, who cared about him; perhaps he couldn't remember them but _they_ remembered _him,_ and they could help him make sense of all this- they-

"There's no next of kin on file, Roy," she said, a little more weakly than before, and Roy's heart fell.

There... wasn't anyone?

...Oh.

There... wasn't anyone.

...

No family.

Roy sunk a little further back into the clinking, biting ice, the straps digging in his wrists, something in his chest clenching agonizingly tightly. It became acutely cold and lonely again, as he somehow felt very, very small.

He was alone here.

Roy swallowed, staring miserably away from the nurse again. It probably was the drugs, and pain, and lack of sleep more than anything else, but for just a moment, he suddenly had to clench his jaw and swallow not to start crying.

He really, really wanted Ed back.

* * *

That night, Roy curled up silently on his side, hugging the blankets to his chest and too exhausted, too miserable, to keep up his midnight vigil this time. He kept on fighting back the lump in his throat that just wouldn't seem to go away, and tried not to think about the news he'd learned that day. He desperately bunched the two blankets closer, clutching tighter to Ed's, wrapping his fists in it as if to remind himself that Ed, at least, was real. No matter what hurt and mistreatment Ed was being put through now, no matter the fact that he wasn't _here_ now, no matter the fact that... he didn't have anyone else... he had Ed.

He _did._

When Roy finally managed to go to sleep that night, it was because he held the thick bundle of blankets in his arms so tight he could pretend it was another person, and it was just small enough for his unconscious, half-drugged mind to believe it was Ed.

 _Please be okay, Ed. Please be okay._

 _Please be... real..._

* * *

And that was how the days passed.

A lonely, unhappy morning of drugs, and a nurse who wouldn't answer his questions about Ed. A lonely, unhappy afternoon of restraints and ice, and a nurse who wouldn't answer his questions about Ed. A lonely, unhappy, freezing night of more drugs- and still, no Ed.

He kept his tallies scratched down on those sheets of notes, watching the days slip by. He clung to those notes, because that was the only proof he had anymore that hadn't dreamed up the very idea of that fierce, confident child who was the only reason he'd gotten through any of this at all.

The days reached double digits.

Ed still wasn't there.

* * *

The moment when Roy finally snapped, in retrospect, was curiously innocuous.

The day was no worse than any other had been. By now, in fact, Roy had found a curious sort of status quo; it was terrifying, still, but the loneliness was not unbearable anymore, simply because he _had_ to bear it- sick and miserable and freezing and lonely, but that was just what his existence had devolved down into now, and there was nothing he could do to change it, nothing at all he could do but sit and bide his time.

The day was just like any other, as he sat out there hopelessly on that couch, staring blankly down at the drawings of the tattoos, and let his nervous mind drift.

The tattoo on his back itched. The nervous, miserable twitch in his hands, the only that Ed's disappearance had spurred on, was only seeming to grow.

Even though Roy was still skipping that damn sedative, all thanks to Ed, he was still drugged, pretty heavily; when Ed had _been there,_ it had been easy enough to shake off and talk to him, but he'd learned pretty quickly such a feat was much harder now that he was alone. He'd hoped to have made some more progress on figuring out the tattoos so Ed could at least have _something_ positive when he _finally_ made it back here ( _he has to be coming back, he has to, HE HAS TO)_ but he'd found his mind drifting more often than not. Drifting in a sickening sea so badly he barely managed to get through even one sloppy paragraph, before he'd forgotten where he was and lost everything but the memory of that angry, determined boy who no longer sat next to him.

It was in that state, again, that Ann approached him.

Roy realized too late she was in the room; by the time he'd blinked and suddenly, she was there, he didn't have time to hide the notes, not without drawing her attention to them in the first place. He clenched his jaw and fists but forced himself to keep still, staring still blankly down. His best bet was just to fake being drugged. If he didn't make the sheets look important, she wouldn't treat them as important, either.

Sure enough, Ann barely even gave the sketches a second look as she stopped before him, holding out a hand as if needed or even _wanted_ her damn help. "Come on, Roy," she told him, gesturing. "Time for treatment!"

"...right," he muttered reluctantly. Slowly, already starting to feel himself shiver, Roy began to get to his feet.

As he moved, though, he had to set the papers aside, and that attracted her attention; the nurse stepped around him a bit to lean down and see, and she smiled brightly. "Oh, look at this!" she exclaimed like he was a five year old proudly displaying his macaroni art to her. "Well, this is nice, Roy; what a nice drawing."

Roy stiffened.

He looked at the nurse, and her stupid, constant, innocent smile and the stupid, constant, patronizing light in her eyes.

He looked back down at the sheet of paper again. The paper on which Ed had painstakingly drawn out every last detail of the suspicious, worrisome ink on their backs, the ink that he was now _sure_ the hospital had done to him. That was all Roy _had_ anymore to try and find out what was going on here, and what had been done to Ed.

His eyes darkened, and his soul quaked in black, cold-hearted rage.

"Don't _touch me,_ " he hissed, and ripped his arm out of the nurse's hand.

"R-Roy?"

"I said don't _touch me-"_ he snapped, stepping back away from here, "and don't talk about Ed like that."

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously again, some of that innocent surprise on the nurse's face shifting into something he knew that was supposed to scare him but he did not _care_ anymore. "I'm not going anywhere with you!" he shouted, throwing his arms out and jerking backwards when she made an attempt to touch him again. "Not until you tell me what you've done to Ed!"

Ann stepped slowly backwards again, and Roy wasn't stupid; he knew she was going to get help, he knew he'd already gone too far, but he'd just been pushed too far and couldn't stop himself any longer. "He's been gone _FOURTEEN DAYS!_ Don't you dare talk about him like that, don't you dare act like he's okay! Where is he?! What did you _do to him?!"_

He'd been gone for so long, the nurses doing god knew _what_ to him this whole time- and they never did _anything_ but act like Ed was totally, completely fine, like they were _helping him-_

 _"WHERE IS HE?!"_ he screamed, just in time for Ann to reach the door, and lean back out to call for help. What did he care; Ed was worse off than he was and nothing was changing, _nothing,_ he was just wasting away into nothing sitting here by himself and he was scared to death and _just wanted Ed back. "Where is he?! What have you done to him?! WHERE IS HE?!"_

As if the words themselves had summoned them, two more orderlies burst into the room from behind Ann; he was already outsized, outnumbered, and outmatched, but if he was going to screw himself over tonight, he might as well commit to it, and he was the one who threw the first punch.

 _"WHERE IS ED?!"_

* * *

On the upside, he avoided the ice bath that day.

The heavy drugs dulled the pain in his throat from screaming to just a soft throb, too.

Small mercies, he thought.

Unlike the last time he'd ended up tied to his own bed, psychotic, agonizing drugs pouring into his veins, Ed wasn't there to bear it with him. Somehow, with as terrified as he'd found himself to be about that boy's state, Ed's absence was harder to take than everything else combined.

He kicked miserably at the impossibly tight straps, straining upwards, screaming long and hard to the ceiling until he ran out of breath and the scalding pain sent him back down, miserable and gasping. He strained again, kicking and fighting, but there was nowhere to go and nothing for him to do but just lie there, feel the pain, and be alone.

He missed Ed. He was scared for him. He wanted him _back._

But he was gone, and... and Roy was really starting to be afraid he was never going to see him again.

He turned his head to the side, shivering and shaking in the restraints, forcing back that constant, lump in his throat again, and tried not to give into the drugs and dry sob into the pillow.

* * *

Perhaps the one upside of being a mental patient was the next morning, far over twelve hours after he'd been bound, all it took was one weakly mumbled assurance that he was fine to get the nurses to untie him, and again leave him alone.

Alone, again.

The will to fight had drained out of him, and all that was left behind was the empty helplessness of defeat.

He didn't know what they were doing to Ed. He didn't know how to help him. He couldn't even help himself.

There was nothing he could do.

The only reason he even managed to drag himself up at all was the memory of the notes he'd left behind out there; the notes Ed had been the one to draw, the notes that were all he had to prove to himself that Ed was even real. He was still far too miserable and in pain to want to do anything more than lie in bed for the rest of the day curled around the bundle of blankets and try not think about who he was missing- but he couldn't leave Ed's hard work abandoned.

That was all he _had_ anymore.

So he dragged himself up, his sore, drugged, miserable body screaming at him with every step, rubbing his chafed wrists as he stumbled out into the hallway. He forced himself step by step onwards, feeling as if the misery weighed him down even more than the pain and medication, lifting his head up reluctantly as he stepped around the corner to try and figure out how to face the day when he'd already lost all strength and motivation to care.

Roy stopped dead.

"E... _Ed?"_

There he was.

Right there.

 _Ed._

Roy gaped.

Slowly, his feet moved another step forward, almost falling, and this time it was only half the drugs, half the shock, It was too surreal, too sudden, too out of place to ever be believed. It felt like he was flying and falling all at once. It wasn't even _possible_.

But- but there he was. Right there.

Like he'd never even left.

 _Right there._ Ed- _Ed!_

Just- _sitting_ curled in his wheelchair, leg pulled to his chest and arm around it and head down, back to the room and body pressed to the wheelchair as if desperate to hide or get away. His long hair, even messier than before, spilled down his back and hid most of him from view, leaving just an unmoving, tiny lump huddled up in the chair-

But there he was.

Roy rubbed his eyes, blinking furiously in disbelief. Half of him fully believed it was just another desperate hallucination brought on by the drugs, because this- it just couldn't be! Ed was there. Here? Ed was back? After _everything?_ Just sitting there in the middle of the room in his wheelchair like he'd never even left?! It was-

 _"ED!"_ he cried, and shot forward like a bullet out of a gun.

He lunged forward to land right before him, just close enough to touch and wasted no time in reaching out, wrapping a shaking hand around the shoulders and gasping and trembling with sheer _relief,_ smile wavering and cheeks almost wet with disbelief. "Ed! My god, Ed- you're okay! _Ed!_ Oh, god, I was so _worried_ about you, Ed," he shook him again, laughing and half sobbing-

But Ed didn't move.

Didn't even try to answer him.

"Ed," he gasped, still hiccuping with near hysteria, "oh my god, I'm so glad you're okay, you had me scared to _death,_ you overconfident-... Ed...?"

Ed didn't move or say a single word in response.

So much like a still, unmoving corpse, that he was closer to dead than alive.

Roy's stomach dropped, and his heart, until now ecstatic and swelled to twice its size and jumping with joy, cracked.

Something was very wrong.

"...Ed...?" he mumbled hoarsely, lost and unsure, not as terrified as before yet but he could already feel it growing in the shaking of his hands. "Ed? H-hey... are you okay? Ed?"

Nothing.

"Ed?" he called again, voice hoarse and cracking from the screams of the night before. "Ed?" He moved unsteadily forwards again, something desperate in him begging him closer but too afraid to move him more. "It's just me, the nurses, they're gone now, okay? It's just me..."

But Ed didn't say anything. He didn't even _move._

"Ed..." he begged, gasping. He hesitantly touched his shoulder again, eyes widening when he didn't even flinch, heart aching in horror with every second that stretched on and he just didn't _move._ No, god, _oh, god, no,_ "Ed, _please..."_

He wasn't moving. God, why wasn't he moving? What was wrong with him? What had they _done_ to him? "Ed, please look at me; please talk to me," but it was as if Ed didn't even know he was there. His body was present but his mind was _gone-_ "What did they do to you? Oh, god, what did they _do?"_

His mind just _wasn't there._ Ed just sat there all huddled up, head down and back to him and the room and the world, and even though Roy had been with the kid for weeks in a psych ward _this moment_ right here was the first time Roy had ever looked at him and not thought he was sane. Something was wrong with him. Those nurses had done _something_ to him, something horrible, they'd made Ed like this- he'd been fucking _fine_ until those nurses had gotten their hands on him, they'd made him sick, they'd _done this_ to him- oh, god, it had been _weeks_ since Roy had been able to see him and to finally get him back like this, _broken-_

"Ed, Ed, please," he begged again, sick at heart as he again touched his shoulder, trying to coax him around to face him. "Just say something. Oh, god... Ed, I'm sorry, I'm sorry I didn't believe you about this place, you were right about everything," and even if Roy didn't remember past a month before he knew he'd never been more honest in his _life,_ "just, please... _please,_ don't let them win now, Ed, come on..." He pulled harder, just managing to get the withdrawn form turned around to face him but Ed's head was still down, face still hidden and shielded by his hair.

What had they _done_ to him?

"Ed... _please,_ please just say something to me. Please- Fullmetal, I can't, p-"

He jerked to a stop.

...Fullmetal?

Roy stared blankly at the huddled form before him, mouth abruptly dry and words gone.

What had he just said?

"Full..." he started hesitantly again, eyes wide- then jolted, when he realized he was not the only one to have heard the odd word.

Ed had stiffened.

For several seconds, the kid held absolutely, perfectly still. Roy held his breath, panic racing in his chest, for the first time given a chance to hope...

And then, finally, Ed's eyes met his own.

It was just barely, two hesitant, dilated eyes lifting jerkily even as his head stayed down, locking nervously on his to blink at him in fear. "...S-say..." he rasped, and Roy's heart leapt just to hear his voice, "say that again."

Roy swallowed. "Fullmetal," he said again, tasting the strange, unfamiliar word in his mouth, rolling it around his tongue; nothing about it made sense at all but at the same time...

 _I know it... don't I._

 _I know it._

Ed stared for several long moments, implacable and blank, wild eyes wide, hand clenched so tightly his knuckles were white. He looked just as lost and stricken as Roy did-

But for the first time, he was conscious and aware.

Roy's heart leapt again.

And then, Ed's face crumpled.

"R-Roy," he sobbed, the word broken into anguish, then with no further warning, threw himself into Roy's arms.


	7. Chapter 7

Thank you all for reviewing! I've been hiding in a blanket burrito since Tuesday, trying to Not Be Sick and failing miserably, so fixing this chapter up was... an adventure. Hopefully no errors too ridiculous snuck through :/ allllllso! We now have fanart, of the hug last chapter, by Akarri! Go check it out on ranowa-fanart-dump on tumblr; it's wonderful! :D

* * *

Ed, just like he'd learned how to do in the padded cell, shut out everything.

But this time, his world included Roy, and that made everything else bearable.

At some point he felt Roy wrap his arms around him, holding him tightly, restraining him just like he'd been restrained for weeks now but now, surrounded by his warmth and safety- it was unbearably different, and that made all the difference. He clung to his terror for a heartbeat longer, trembling because he'd forgotten how to exist as anything else- but then it all just fell into nothing and he buried his face in Roy's shoulder, gasping and clinging to him with everything that he had. He vaguely heard himself babbling, the words incoherent gasps and hell, he didn't even know what he wanted to say; none of it mattered.

All he could comprehend was that he'd survived, and it was over.

"You're okay," he heard distantly. "Shh, shh. It's okay, I've got you. They won't touch you again, I promise. Shh." The arms tightened again, pulling him closer; Ed just burrowed his head against his warm shoulder and tried to catch his breath between sobs.

He'd done it. He'd escaped. He'd gotten out. It was over.

Some part of him felt himself being lifted, then moved; some even smaller part realized Roy had just picked him up straight out of the wheelchair and was now carrying him away, and he couldn't make himself care. He clutched onto him tighter, hiding his face in his shirt and desperately not letting himself process anything besides Roy's impossibly steady, reassuring arms, and the steady words going on over his head.

"It's okay," Roy promised, over and over. There was something in his voice he didn't recognize, something almost like anger- but his assurances never stopped, and the arms around him never loosened. "It's okay. You're safe now, Ed, I've got you-"

"S-stop," he rasped- and just like that, somehow, everything did stop.

Somehow that, beyond everything else, got through the haze.

Ed jerked backwards, reeling just enough out of Roy's tight grasp to look up to his face and stare. "Don't call me that," he gasped, and it wasn't until he'd said it that he'd even realized what he wanted.

Roy stared down at him uncertainly, wide-eyed and confused. He looked alarmed; terrified, perhaps, and Ed almost could sympathize but was too busy trying not to break down to care. "Fullmetal," he said again, staring up at Roy. "Call me that. Fullmetal. It's important- it m-means something! I- I want- R-Roy..."

He couldn't put it into words any more than that. He could barely talk as it was, too distraught and torn to even think any longer- but Roy, thank god, didn't need it.

"Fullmetal," Roy said slowly. An uncertain, weak smile twitched into place, and then he said it again, nodding harder. "Fullmetal."

It was familiar the way everything he couldn't remember was. _Right_ in all the ways Justin's array had been wrong. He didn't understand it- maybe he was crazy after all- but he recognized it, and when that was all he fucking had he latched onto it like a bulldog. "Fullmetal," Ed repeated, relishing in the familiarity of it, overwhelmed, almost ecstatic- then felt another breakdown growing in his throat and just ducked his head back against Roy's shoulder, burying himself against his warm arms and just letting himself lose it.

He felt a little more present with every word Roy said, every single time he called him _Fullmetal._ Less like he was still in that room, and less like the existence of a world beyond that padded cell was too much for him to handle anymore. He had to be terrifying Roy by this point and almost felt bad, but the warm arms around him offset any guilt about it and after having _there_ for so long- he just couldn't care anymore.

He had Roy, and at that moment, anything else beyond that was something Ed just couldn't handle right now.

"...I'm sorry," he mumbled at last, sniffling and voice thick. He kept his face hidden against Roy's shoulder, humiliated and face burning and just not wanting to see the look on Roy's face right now, but the apology had to be said.

He felt rather than saw Roy shake his head over him, a cheek pressed to his hair. "Don't apologize."

"I'm... I didn't mean to... do that. I just... I can't..."

Roy shook his head again. "No apologies necessary," he repeated firmly- and then, pulled back just a little with a slight smirk. " _Fullmetal."_

The familiar name again struck him and he fought to swallow a smile, one shaking hand lifting almost of its own accord to rub at his wet cheeks. "That's my name. That's my damn name." His voice was weak and choked and pathetic, and he grinned again, something almost close to joy expanding inside him. "Don't call me Ed again," he ordered, pushing a little away from Roy. "Ed's what this hospital says; that's- the only reason you call me that at all is because _they_ said it's my name. Fullmetal's... it's..."

It was whatever the hospital didn't want them to know. It was whatever they had forgotten that Justin and the nurses weren't telling them. It was their truth, and that one word represented everything he was fighting for- the truth that he had, that they _both_ had, to break out of this place for.

Roy grinned to him, smirk broadening. He understood- Ed could see it in his eyes alone. He didn't need an explanation, because he already understood. "I know, Fullmetal," he said quietly, and those three words were the single best thing he had heard since they'd put him in that room.

Ed didn't even realize what was happening next until he saw it, the older man shifting back even more to lift his arm up to examine it. The limb was so sore and numb he just hadn't felt Roy touching it; even now that he could see it he barely could feel Roy's fingertips skating lightly over his arm- but he did see them freeze over the deep impressions from the restraints... and he did see his pale face cloud over in black rage.

Something in him flinched away, and he swallowed, gaze suddenly fixated quite firmly back down on his foot.

"E- Fullmetal." Another fingertip drifted lightly down his arm, then two hands grabbed him tightly by the shoulders to hold him out at arm's length, Roy's dark eyes flashing and his face slowly shifting in an almost dangerous scowl. "What did they do to you?"

"N..." He stopped, swallowing; the words literally died in his throat and it felt as if something in him just physically wilted up and died. "N-nothing."

The words came out as an unimpressive, unconvincing, almost squeak. It was embarrassing and humiliating and his face burned, but- but no. Just _no._ He felt almost sick at the idea of even trying to say it; no, no, he had just calmed down, he couldn't think about it again, he _wouldn't-_

"Fullmetal, this looks like they tied you down!" Roy insisted desperately, still running his fingers down his arm. "This looks as if you've been- this whole time-"

"So?!" He shot back, inwardly terrified, desperate to _not have_ this conversation. "You look like that too!" He grabbed at Roy's wrist and yanked it out to bare the red marks around it, nails biting into the raw band of skin. "Doesn't matter! No!"

"This is different, E- Fullmetal!" Roy freed his arm almost effortlessly and yanked it out straight, outlining the twisting red marks around the limb- the one around his wrist, the pattern against his still numb hand, the impression at his elbow from where it'd been bound to his stomach for _so long-_ "Look at this! It's- I can't even imagine- Fullmetal, what did they _do_ to you?!"

There were... so _many_ of them...

"...Nothing," Ed whispered again, trembling. "Nothing. Nothing. It's nothing, Roy. Please." He shut his eyes again, cringing back and away, nauseated and terrified all over again. "It's nothing." _P_ _lease..._

 _Please don't make me say it. Please don't make me think back here; I can't do it. I just got out of there, please, please, PLEASE Roy... please just stop...  
_

"It's not _nothing!_ Fullmetal, they hurt you!" Revenge flashed in his eyes again and suddenly Roy was half on his feet; it wasn't until he'd moved off the bed that Ed even realized Roy must've carried him all the way back into his room. "Don't I deserve to know, too? They'll do it to me at some point; aren't you going to tell me so I can be prepared? You did before, what about now?!"

Ed's breath caught again, anxiety fluttering alongside the sickened terror in his chest. Roy was right, wasn't he? They were going to do it to him, too... it was unavoidable, that was what was going to happen, they were going to treat Roy the same way- and it was his responsibility to help him, wasn't it? He could help him- he had to do it, but-

 _Don't make me think back there. Please- please just stop..._

But Roy was right. He had to tell him, didn't he? It didn't matter how hard it was for him; if it helped Roy- if it was best for him...

"I'm sorry," he barely managed to moan, shaking. He turned a little away from him, the words sticking in his mouth and mind reeling with the panic of it all, overwhelmed all over again. But Roy was right, wasn't he? He had to say! It would help Roy; he had to do it- and what did it matter at all, anyway; he was overreacting! This was nothing- they hadn't even touched him! What was he losing his mind over in the first place; they hadn't done a _thing_ to him. It had all been himself, his own reactions, his own delusions, his own _madness._ This was pathetic; _he_ was pathetic, he was falling apart over nothing, this was just...

"It's nothing. I'm sorry, it's nothing," he all but babbled, working his numb fingers through his greasy hair then scrubbing them across his damp face, fighting to stop shaking, to make sense, to grasp sanity. "They j-just... locked me in a... room. That's it."

"...A room?" Roy questioned unsurely.

Ed just shook his head violently, blocking out the words as he desperately plowed through the words; the faster he could get them out, the faster it'd be over. "That's all it was. It's nothing. They just locked me in a... a r-room, and..." His voice dwindled smaller, nerves tightening into a knot in his throat. "And, drugs again- they gave me all those drugs again, and the- the j-jacket- the- they made me wear a... a... "

Fuck, he couldn't say it. His face burned and his hand shook and he just couldn't force out the horrible, humiliating word. But he _had_ to. Roy had to be prepared, he had to know what was coming, he couldn't just be a coward and hide it; he had to get it out right _now,_ he had to do the right thing- "They p-put me- in a- a-..."

"...It's all right, Fullmetal. You don't have to say."

" _No!_ I have to! If they do it to you-"

"Then I'll deal with it, just like you had to," Roy soothed quietly, sitting back down on the bed and gesturing a little for him to do the same. "You're not obligated to make this easier for me. None of this is on _you,_ okay? You survived it- so will I."

"But..." Ed shook his head again but let Roy coax him back into sitting down, unsteady and raw enough that he didn't want to argue. He knew what Roy was doing. He knew he'd seen him struggle and just fall apart like a baby and was trying to take it easy on him, and his face burned, even more embarrassed than before- but stronger than the embarrassment was the _relief._ "It's.. it's nothing, really, I mean- I'm over-r-reacting, it's- and they _won't_ do it to you if you just do what they tell you, okay?" And he was really babbling now, but the strength and will to stop himself was somewhere way fucking off in the distance too far away for him to ever grasp it again. "All you've gotta do is just-" _behave_ "do what they tell you, and you'll be fine, okay? Like always! Just pretend you're going along with everything and they won't hurt you!"

Once again, he was pretty sure Roy was outright alarmed now, either at his own pathetic state or at the thought that everything he'd been through was coming to him as well; Ed was to far gone to care which. The older man leaned back with a troubled expression, interlacing his fingers over his lap, then looked back at him with a calculating frown. "So... what _did_ you do, then?"

"What?"

"What is it they had you do?" He gestured again, eyes narrowed and face pale with worry. "They told you to do something... well, what was it?"

Ed stopped again, the question somehow again throwing him for a loop, even after _everything._ This wasn't unbearable, at least, this wasn't too painful and laced with panic for him to face again- but that did not at all mean he wanted to talk about this.

But he could do this, at least. This wasn't like that padded room, and the straitjacket, and the drugs- he could talk about this. He could relive it. He _had_ to relive it.

His hands suddenly tingled, burning the way they had when he'd used the array even as his stomach twisted with guilt. "I'm... not sure," he admitted reluctantly, even if he instantly hated himself for it- because it was technically the truth, he didn't really _know_ what he had done- but he knew what Roy was asking, and this time, he _had_ to tell him. He wasn't such a pathetic child that he was going to wuss out again.

Even though he knew he'd done the wrong thing...

Even though he knew he'd had a choice... and he'd chosen _wrongly..._

"There... was an array," he said at last, dropping weakly to sit back down on the bed and pulling his leg up close to his chest. "Not the tattoo one, but- it's the same sort of thing, you know? It was a circle, and it's... god, I don't know why I know it, but it's an array. That's what it is. And they wanted me to use it."

"...Use it? What do you mean _use_ it?"

"I don't know! I don't know how I know any of this! It's just like the tattoos, I just looked at it and _got_ it- but I don't know any of it at all! I-" Ed swallowed tightly, trying to control himself even as his breaths raced again and his heart started pounding. Roy wasn't questioning him to be an ass. Roy had every right to know what he was trying to say, because soon, Roy would be in the exact same boat as he was. It wasn't Roy's fault that he didn't know anything at all anymore, it wasn't Roy's fault that even trying to describe it made him feel _insane..._ the way he just magically _knew_ these things somehow, knew them beyond all certainty but had zero explanation as to why.

He wasn't fucking crazy. He _wasn't._

 _I'm not I'm not I'm not..._

 _...don't make me go back there..._

 _...please..._

"...It's alchemy."

Again, Roy went quiet for a few moments.

"...Alchemy?" he asked at last.

Ed made himself nod again, looking back fiercely at Roy. "Alchemy. That's what I did... and I think that's what they're after. That's why they're keeping us here- because we can do it." He turned around to face Roy fully this time, the weight on his shoulders loosening a little as he started to understand. "The arrays, they're... it's like a math equation, I think. It has everything you need to solve it right there inside of it, but that's all useless if you don't know how to use it- and solving it, that's what I can do- _that's_ alchemy. I don't know if they need us because they _can't_ solve it, or just want us to, but- that's got to be it, Roy." The more he thought about it, the more he understood, and he started nodding, unable to help a weak smile. For the first time in _weeks,_ he felt like he could finally grasp what was going on. "That's the whole point of everything they're doing here! They want us to do alchemy for them- that's what they wanted from me."

 _And you did it._

 _Even though you knew it was wrong._

"...Okay," Roy said haltingly. He narrowed his eyes again, breaking Ed's gaze to frown down at the bed, expression implacable. "All right, but, you never answered my question. What was it that you _did?"_

Ed bristled at the confusion in his voice, knowing he was just being humored, that Roy didn't get it at all but was polite enough not to say- but they didn't have time for him to be an ass and dither around being _polite._ But it didn't matter, because again, Roy was right.

He still hadn't said.

Ed shifted uncomfortably again, guilt squirming in his stomach, and lowered his gaze once more to the bed.

"I... made gold."

Roy stiffened again; this time, Ed could almost feel his blank stare land on him again.

"Uh- what?" he asked dumbly.

Ed winced, trying to force himself to meet Roy's eyes again. The utter lack of understanding waiting for him there, not quite judgment, certainly not anything comforting, was not helpful at all. "I made gold."

Roy frowned again. "I don't understand..."

"Neither do I, but that's what happened. Justin, the doctor- or whatever the hell he _really_ is- he put a rock in the circle, and made me use it, and I... turned it into gold." He hesitated, fighting back another wave of guilt and shame. "That's what alchemy is. And... I did it."

It had been equally exhilarating and horrifying, he remembered. As terrified as he'd been to touch that circle, the weeks he'd spent in that padded room because he'd refused to in the first place, when he'd actually done it, it had felt... good. The moment his fingertips had touched the array, god, the _energy_ that had shot through him- no matter how wrong it had been, Ed could not deny now that it had felt _good._ Exhilarating like a drug, almost- but a _good_ drug, not the shit the hospital gave them, a rush of energy and life that made the world light up and the his blood rush with euphoria. He'd felt almost addictively good, like himself for the very first time since waking up here...

And then that one small rock had been dismantled, deconstructed- and put back together again in a brilliant crackle of light.

Put back together, as a tiny nugget of gold.

Ed glanced hesitantly back at Roy, who was watching him now with his face unreadable and his eyes wide. He was being listened to, at least, not just immediately discounted as a lunatic- which Ed only now realized that was exactly what his story made him sound like... but it didn't matter; at least Roy was trying. That was all he needed, right now; all Ed needed was someone to help him, and they'd be able to get the hell out of here and never set foot in a hospital again. "Look, I know this all sounds crazy," he started again, earnestly moving closer, "I know- but I saw it with my own two eyes. That's what happened. And it makes sense, doesn't it? I mean, just that little piece of gold has to be worth a _shit ton._ If they want both of us doing that, they could make a fortune!"

"That's... well..." Again, Roy didn't look very convinced- of anything whatsoever- but at least he wasn't discounting him outright, and that was probably the best of what he could ask for right now. "It's... a theory, sure. But slow down a moment, all right? Let's just think this through..."

"Think _what_ through?! This should be proof, shouldn't it?! How the hell is me making _gold_ for them a treatment for anything! I don't feel any fucking better at all, that didn't do a _damn_ thing except help them out-"

"I know, I know, I'm not contesting any of that, Fullmetal, I'm sorry- calm down, okay, just listen, please?" Roy touched a hand to his shoulder again, gently coaxing him a little bit closer to sit back down on the bed. "For starters, _why?_ They seem to know what they're doing- why do they need to force us to use the arrays for them, if that's what they're really after?"

"I don't know... I got the feeling that what I was doing was- _wrong_ , somehow." Guilt needled inside him again and he squirmed, breaking his gaze. It was hard to define, combining the horror of giving in and the beautiful, euphoric rush and the terrified paranoia and- but he knew that for certain. "It was against the rules, somehow. We're not supposed to make gold- I knew the second I looked at the circle it was wrong. All of it was just _wrong."_

"If that's the case, that doesn't explain too much- they clearly don't go into a conniption at the thought of breaking the law; wouldn't it still be easier for them to just do this all themselves rather than force us?"

"That's- I don't- ...well don't fucking ask _me!"_ He buried his face in his hand with a frustrated cry, battling back the panic that was already expanding to the point that it was suffocating in his chest. "I'm not the one doing all of this! Ask them, ask _them!_ But you're fucking _crazy_ if you think you're gonna leave me here, because I won't stay any longer! I won't go back there, I won't, I _can't,_ and if you can still think after all of this they're actually trying to help us, then- then I- you-"

He jumped when a hand touched his shoulder again, fingers curling gently. They didn't force him- for the first time in weeks, he was being touched without being forced, and somehow the frantic coalesced ball of terror inside him crumbled just a little bit further. He jerkily looked back up at Roy through his hair, fighting for just a moment to keep the pathetic fear and lost anxiety off his face before he just gave in and let the vulnerability swallow him whole.

"It's okay," Roy said quietly again, looking him right in the eye. "I believe you now, about everything. ...I believe you, _Fullmetal."_

And that one strange word, and everything that it meant, was somehow all that he needed to hear.

Roy nodded to him after several moments of strained silence, the hold on his shoulder relaxing but not moving away. "We don't understand everything that's going on now, but I believe you about it all. This... whatever they did to you... it's not _helping._ Even if there is something wrong with us, being here isn't doing anything except hurting us more, and you... I'm with you, Fullmetal," he finished with a sigh. "We need to get out of here. And if to do that, we need to break out ourselves- then I'm with you on that, too. We'll get ourselves out, and figure things out on our own."

Ed kept himself still to the impossible words, too terrified to let himself hope. He'd hoped before, after all, hadn't he? And look where he was now- fucking snotting all over Roy's sleeve like a _baby,_ helpless and flat out unable to take care of himself. But Roy was watching him steadily without a hint of deceit in his eyes... like he had been this entire time. Roy, who hadn't even once looked at him like he was crazy even though he'd started off today by off and sobbing into his shoulder without a word of explanation. Who, whether he liked it or not, was his one and only chance to ever get out of here and find Al again.

Who he had no reason to distrust.

"...Okay," he said at last, and this time, he meant it.

It felt as if a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders, and for the first time since the straitjacket had been taken off, he could actually breathe.

He hesitated for a few moments longer, breaking Roy's gaze when it became uncomfortably to pick awkwardly down at the sheets, biting his lip. He still felt shaken and too nervous and weak, like one raw nerve, and the balm lent by Roy's promise was short-lived to say the least.

Long-term plans were great, but here and now, he still felt like this. Here and now, he was still a mess, and really just needed something to hang onto- and Roy was all he had.

"What..." he started hesitantly, fingers shaking against the bed. "...What are we gonna do now?"

Roy let out a heavy sigh behind him, one that sounded just too close to defeat to be a comfort. "I don't know," he murmured. Next moment, Ed found himself being dragged gently back in an around the shoulders sort of hug, his head coming to rest against his chest while his arm wrapped around him from behind, and god, he was just too tired to be strong anymore. He shut his eyes, letting Roy hold him, and let out a shaking breath as something inside him just crumbled.

"I don't know, Fullmetal. But we'll figure something out. I promise."

And he had no choice but to believe him.

* * *

Roy was _furious._

He couldn't dare show it, of course. Right now, his one and only priority had to be keeping the trembling child in his arms calm, and somehow, he doubted the way to do that would be flying off into a rage and punching out a nurse or two. He couldn't be there for Ed if he went after those nurses the way they deserved, so of course, he would just control himself-

But that did not stop the black rage consuming his heart.

How _dare_ they?

How could the hospital have done this to him? Hurt him so badly he couldn't even put it into words; scare him so much he could barely manage to so much as face him? Ulterior motives or not, it was inexcusable. It was all but unfathomable that someone could hurt a child this way- though, in some sick way, he was almost grateful, because this was the final straw. This was all he'd had to see, to finally be swayed straight onto Ed's side of things.

There was no other explanation for what this hospital was doing to them. They weren't being helped. They were being hurt, and whoever the hell it was that had arranged all of this, wanted something from him and Ed. Maybe it was the alchemized gold, like Ed had said, maybe something else entirely- but all he knew for sure was, it _wasn't_ to help them, and he wasn't going to just sit around and let them take it from him or Ed any more.

Well... _Fullmetal,_ he corrected himself mentally. Not Ed. Fullmetal.

Fullmetal was another thing he didn't understand, and he was pretty sure the kid didn't, either- but it helped. It helped both of them. A name that they'd learned all on their own, that this hospital had tried to take from them but had failed. A single word that meant they were still fighting back, and that there was a life for them outside this place and what they'd been told here, and all they had to do was reach for it.

"It'll be okay, Fullmetal," he promised again, adjusting his grip a little bit around his still trembling shoulders.

The kid shifted again, half-lidded gaze still focused away from him and messy hair almost hiding his face. "We're going to find out a name for you, too, got it. You called me Fullmetal- and I'm sure I called you something, too. Colonel or whatever. We've just gotta figure out what it is."

Roy just couldn't help it. A weak smile spread across his face, melting the hurt clouding his heart like warm butter, and the hand on Ed's shoulder relaxed a little more. It wasn't that he was touched, exactly, but something about it- how Ed could be concerned and thinking of him, even now... "Thank you," he murmured back, heart shuddering with another smile.

They'd been here in his room for a while now, and sitting here quietly together for a while as well. Roy had carried him in here earlier when he'd been all but incoherent in his breakdown, wanting to get him away from any potential prying eyes of the nurses, and once he'd managed to get him to calm down they'd just been sitting here together, Roy just holding him here and trying to give him some modicum of comfort. Ed had slipped to be lying down some time ago, blinking slowly and blearily from exhaustion, head propped up on his knee and back to him. Admittedly, he did seem much calmer now, but Roy wouldn't feel better until the kid had slept some to recover from his ordeal.

For now, he was just going to have to be content to sit here like this, and lend him whatever security that he could.

"Hey, Fullmetal?" he asked quietly after a few moments, glancing back down to him.

Ed blinked sleepily again, the only motion out of him still his soft, gentle breathing. "Yeah, Colonel?"

Another weak smile forced away the mix of despair and sorrow weighing down his mind, washing it back with a wave of warmth and familiarity. It was probably insane, but he genuinely loved hearing that. "When we get out of here. _Soon,_ hopefully... what's the plan? Where do you want to go?"

Ed's lips twitched into a small, half-hidden sort of grin. His tired face turned almost wistful, and the tense set to his shoulders relaxed just a little bit more. "I'm going to find my family."

Roy's own smile dropped.

"Your... family?" he asked hesitantly, insides clenching. It felt like he'd swallowed something distinctly unpleasant and now it was squirming around in his stomach, and he found himself suddenly having to look away, face falling. "You've... got a family?"

Ed nodded again without hesitation, and somehow the way his sleepy smile broadened felt like another punch to the gut. "Yeah," he said firmly. "Yeah, I do." He closed his eyes, pillowing his head a little more comfortably in Roy's knee. "What 'bout you?"

His insides clenched again and he almost felt his face fall again, an awful net of loneliness and powerful misery descending straight over him to cling onto every limb like sticky tar. "I..." He swallowed again, forcing his voice into something steady, that sounded like he didn't care. "I don't believe so, no. You know that I can't be positive. It's just... well, I asked the nurse a while ago... I asked her if I had any family asking about me, or coming to visit me, and she just said that no one was coming. That I... had no family."

It had been one of the distinctly more depressing moments of his time here, he remembered. It was awful enough to realize he was a mental patient with no memory- but it had been a whole other level of misery to see it didn't even matter, because even if he got better, there'd be no one waiting for him when he got out.

And to this distinctly depressing lonely story?

Ed laughed.

In his face.

For the first time since making it back to him, which made it more than worth it- but _still_.

"Come on, Colonel," Ed said, smirking up at him. "They're liars; you know that! You know they're just feeding you whatever they want you to hear. They said the exact same thing to me!" He laughed again a little, rolling his eyes like Roy was an idiot on the level of recordbreaking idiocy, then just shut his eyes again and left his smirk in place. "Moron."

Well, that was...

Certainly enlightening.

"Ah..." Roy flushed faintly, unsure whether to be provoked or amused. "Well, I..." Ed was right, of course. As usual- it was beginning to seem like he was _always_ right, about _everything._ And now that he took a second to actually think about what he'd been told, he instantly saw how easy it would've been for they to have lied to them both about this, like they had lied about _everything-_ but, even in that case...

"Well, I'm not about to argue against those nurses lying to us," he went on finally, forcing himself to relax again as he dropped a hand back down to Ed's shoulder. He started to absentmindedly stroke the mess of hair, as much something to calm Ed down as himself now. "But, when you said you had a family, you... seemed so sure of yourself."

This time, it was Ed's turn to pause. Not to wince and backtrack, like Roy had before, but something in his confident smirk receded a little, and the bold as brass shine in his eyes faded into a gentler, more reminiscent light. "Yeah," he murmured, dropping his tired eyes back down to the bed. "It's hard to explain, but... one day, early on, before you showed up? I just- sat down and thought about it. I mean, logically, I knew I had to have _someone._ No one exists without knowing _anybody._ So I knew I had to have a connection with someone, so I just sat down and tried to remember, and... Al." He smiled again, entire face softening with such a warm fondness, such a genuine, sincere friendship, that Roy's heart almost melted into a puddle of goo right there on the floor. "I've got someone, and his name is Al. And the first thing I do when I get out of here is I'm gonna look for him."

Yep. Heart, melted puddle of goo. Right there on the floor.

"You'll find him," he promised immediately. "If anyone can, it's you, Fullmetal." He ran his fingers through the mess of hair again, gently trying to work out the unfathomable knot of tangles.

Ed nodded back, head still resting on his leg, sleepy gaze unfocused. "Damn straight I will." He fidgeted a little, seeming to swallow a yawn. "...What about you, then? What can you remember about your family?"

Roy blinked. He looked back down at the half asleep child in his lap, the innocent, tired question suddenly all he could even think about- all he'd ever _wanted_ to think about, as he abruptly grasped for the very first time there could be someone waiting for him out there. Beyond the black abyss of his life that this place had blocked him out from... there could actually be someone there.

He could actually _find_ them.

A hesitant, nervous smile twisted his lips, heart fluttering anxiously in his chest. Roy took a deep breath, hand still resting in Ed's hair, and shut his eyes.

His friends.

His family.

"...Lots of blue," he heard himself say at last, and in that moment, that was what overtook his mind. "Lots and lots of blue."

This time, he could feel Fullmetal smile against his knee.

"You know that's probably the most unhelpful thing you could've ever said right now, don't you?"

And Roy couldn't help but smile back.

"Yes," he managed softly. "I do." A warm feeling of fond recognition swept through him from head to toe, and he ran a hand slowly through Ed's hair again.

Lots and lots of blue.

And this time, Ed did not laugh at him.

"Don't worry," the kid said warmly back, without even a hint of doubt. "We'll find em. Whoever they are... we'll find Al, and we'll find your blue."

Despite the fact that they were both sitting here, locked up in a psych ward, not a clue where or who they were or where to start from, Roy believed him.

"I know," he murmured. He hugged him just a little bit tighter, and this time, he left him that away, until he at last fell asleep in his arms.

* * *

When the nurses inevitably came for them, Roy was ready.

He glared the moment the door to his room opened, tightening his arms just enough around Ed to be protective. He straightened up in bed, watching darkly as Susan stepped into the dim room- just Susan, at least, one was easier to deal with than two- and was ready and waiting when her eyes met his, only to widen in surprise.

He was ready to face the consequences for this. If she realized he wasn't properly sedated and drugged and restrained him again for the night, so be it. He'd take that punishment- but he was _not_ going to let her take Ed away from him and force him to wake up alone without a fight.

"Ah, here you two are," she said warmly, instantly starting for Ed. "Let me get him off your hands, Roy, all right? Poor boy; he had such a trying-... day..."

She trailed off uncomfortably, the gaze once focused on Ed drawn inescapably back up to his steady, waiting, unspoken threat of a glare. She blinked in the dim light, looking almost about to shiver. "...Is... everything all right, R... sir?"

Roy continued to glare, but this time, he had to seriously fight to swallow back a predatory, warning grin. Sir. Good. "He's tired," he snapped, and while he made every attempt to do it quietly, so as not to wake him up, for the first time he made _no_ attempt to disguise the fact that he wasn't still drugged. "He's tired, and he doesn't want to be alone- because of whatever the hell you _people_ did to him. I'm not naive enough to claim that I can stop you from taking him from me, but if you want to do that to him, you are going to have to force me." He let his hand move back to rest on Ed's head again, scowl firmly in place and every muscle tensed in preparation for what was to come.

It was worth it.

As pointless as this stand was, as _nowhere_ as it was going to get him- it was worth it.

It was to his endless surprise, however, when Susan actually hesitated.

She glanced at him, then down to Ed again with a shadow of uncertainty flickering across her features. Her footsteps faltered in the doorway as she looked down at the small form he held protectively in his lap; Roy couldn't help but tighten his arms again, and he bristled when he realized what she was actually looking at. Ed, though he'd been so much calmer for a while now, had been crying, when they'd first seen each other, and he could still see the signs of that on his face- and _that_ was what she was staring at.

He gritted his teeth again, injustice and rage flooding through him, and fought with everything he had to stay calm. "Whatever you did to him didn't help him," he snapped evenly, hand in his hair. "I don't think it could ever have helped anyone."

She hovered in the doorway still, nervous eyes downcast and one hand clenched around the doorframe. "...We're just doing as the doctor says," she said at last, gaze down- but in her voice, Roy at last heard something that almost gave him pause.

It sounded almost like... regret.

"It's treatment we do all the time. The doctor said so," she went on, a touch defensively now- defensive like she knew there was something to defend. "You may get worse before you get better."

"Shouldn't we get a choice, then?" he fired back, just as quietly, just as carefully, arms still tight around Ed. "If we think what you're doing is hurting us more than it's worth, shouldn't we get the choice to say no?" He paused for a moment, allowing his glare to darken into something vicious. "Or are you going to stand there and pretend that F- Edward actually _consented_ to what you did to him."

Silence.

Susan continued to stand uncertainly in the doorway, her eyes down. Ed slept on. Roy continued to glare.

Even when she chanced another glance at Ed's still form, her eyes worried and shadowed with hesitation, he still refused to allow himself even an ounce of sympathy.

They'd done this to Ed. They'd hurt him. They'd scared him. And now, they were trying to rip him away from him and put him back in that wheelchair he hated and take him off to go wake up in his own room, alone.

There was no fucking sympathy to be had.

Not even when, bewilderingly, the nurse took a step _back,_ moving cautiously to the hallway again, still watching the both of them with worried, uncertain eyes- and then she actually, _miraculously,_ started to turn her back. "I'm sorry," she said quietly, voice wavering. "I was... trying to help. I..."

And then, not even finishing that last sentence, she was gone.

The door swung shut behind her with barely a whisper, and Roy was left alone on his bed, sitting there- with a still asleep Ed still in his arms.

* * *

 _A/N: kudos to inventory on ao3 for being the first to guess what Justin's array did!_


	8. Chapter 8

Thank you all so much for reviewing!

* * *

Ed woke up with a gasp.

The nightmare ground to halt around him, the dim, darkened walls of his room screeching back into place and the straitjacket vanishing into dust. He gasped into the bed again, shivering against the thin sheets, then suddenly found himself bolting upright, patting frantically over himself to prove to his panicking mind he was still free.

Not back there. Not back there. _Not back there. Not- not-_

The room was so small- the walls were closing in around him- he could feel the padded rubber underneath his feet, see the rotting woman in the corner of his eye, feel the straitjacket tightening with every move he made. He couldn't breathe, coouldn't think, was terrified and _alone_ and- and-

Another horrified breath fell out of him, stuttering past chattering teeth, and Ed pushed himself out of bed without a second thought.

One leg or not, Ed was an expert at moving now, limping down the hallway with an arm that still felt sore but fed with a determined sort of panic. If he could hop around a room in a straitjacket without falling over, then limping down the hallway with his hand on the wall was a piece of cake- as scared and shaken as he was or not.

It was dark and quiet in the hospital ward now, a darkness that was reassuring, because it had only been two days since he'd made it out of that padded cell where it was always light- and the darkness was just another anchor he could grasp onto, prove to himself he was safe. But it wasn't good enough. It never lasted for very long, it never held him in place for long enough, but that didn't matter- he didn't need it to _work,_ he just needed for it to sustain him, keeping him going for long enough to make it just a few feet down, to reach-

Here.

Roy's room.

Ed jerked the door open, shoved himself inside, and pushed it shut again without hesitation.

He limped forward to the bed, trying not to look closely at its occupant, because if he did, he knew he'd feel guilty. He got himself close enough to steady himself on its side, limping step after step forward, opened his mouth, stopped, swallowed, then opened his mouth again. "R... Roy," he whispered, voice hoarse and cracking in the silence.

For one moment, there was nothing.

Then, with a sleepy sort of sigh, Roy squinted his eyes open, blinking past messy hair up at him, drugs and exhaustion shadowing his face. Somehow, even as hard as he was trying not to look at him, Ed found himself fighting back a wave of guilt and embarrassment, and he found himself moving backwards again before he'd even tried to explain. "I... sorry," he mumbled, blinking downwards. "I... I know I shouldn't... be here. I'm sorry... I'll... I'll j-just..."

Roy grunted wordlessly, a quiet sound of exasperation. "Come here," he ordered in a business like manner, and before Ed could give more than a startled sort of squeak of protest, Roy had wrapped an arm around his side and heaved him up onto the bed with him with next to no effort, and then he was covered with the blankets before he could even say _please._

Ed flushed hotly, again finding himself stuck somewhere between embarrassment and the lingering remnants of panic. He hesitantly wound his fist around the blanket instead, grasping it as he felt Roy sit up a little and curled a protective arm around his back. "I'm... really sorry," he mumbled again, not even able to look at him.

Roy pushed gently at his shoulder, dismissively, almost. "I sleep easier, too," he said quietly, slowly patting the blankets into place over him, so much so that Ed felt as if he could just huddle up and hide underneath them and in Roy's arms and disappear forever. "Least this way, I can keep an eye on you."

Ed grimaced silently into the sheets. He knew it wasn't true. Roy could obviously sleep just fine without him here. Roy, obviously, did not wake up in a panic multiple times every night, desperately seeking for a way to not be alone. Roy, _obviously,_ did not need to _keep an eye on him,_ because he wasn't back in that padded cell anymore, so he was _fine,_ and the last thing he needed to be doing was waking him up out of what little sleep they got and forcing him to share his bed like he was nothing more than a scared child.

"Go back to sleep, Fullmetal" Roy said softly over his head, arm tightening just a little more. "It's okay."

Ed swallowed, anxious guilt tightening around his heart again.

Slowly, he leaned his his head against the reassuring warmth of his shoulder, and shut his eyes to the promise of Roy's arm around his shoulders, and the hand gently combing through his hair.

* * *

Their next few days were spent on one thing, and one thing only:

Planning how to escape.

Ed had been a little worried, at first, fearful that Roy had been humoring him that first night back just to try and get him to calm down- but his worries had been put to rest the very next morning. Whatever reservations the colonel had, he was keeping them silent now, because he didn't bring them up anymore- their only focus was on how to escape.

The plans were slow work, to say the least. They had to make sure the nurses never overheard even a hint of what they were really talking about, and worse than that, Ed was pretty sure they would only have one shot. If their first attempt to break out of here failed and they were caught, he didn't know what Justin would do to them- but he knew there was a chance they wouldn't survive it.

Either way, they damn sure wouldn't get another chance to run after that.

Their planning sessions, as usual, were interrupted whenever the so-called medical staff came by to harass them again; whatever it was they wanted, they were picking up the pace. They showed up each day now, dragging Roy off towards what they called treatment while Ed had found himself in the room with the array each day- nurses and a wheelchair at his back, Justin standing at his side watching... and a pile of rocks waiting for him in the circle.

Each day, he'd transformed it into gold.

Each night, he heard the whispers of _against the rules_ in his dreams. He didn't know what rules these were, or how he was breaking them- but he did know that what he was doing was wrong. As much as he sincerely liked alchemy, as much as he knew that it had to be genuinely good- what he was doing here wasn't right.

Each day, as if testing the limits of his power, the pile of rocks he was meant to transmute got a little bit bigger.

It caused a sense of trepidation that he didn't want to think about, because he did not want to know what this was building up to.

It had now been four days, since Ed had gotten out of the padded room that he desperately tried to never think about. Their planning had been mildly successful, even while difficult, and they'd definitely made some progress, but Ed was getting antsy and he could tell Roy was, too. The longer they sat here quietly the more it was just _asking_ for something bad to happen. Time was running out, and they had to act.

Soon.

"I think we've got everything that we need," the colonel said haltingly, a finger tapping gently. "Luck is with us, since we're operating under the assumption the hospital is still treating us as patients, not prisoners of war- patients who aren't mentally fit at that. I'd prefer having some more information, but considering the circumstances..."

"We could try getting at their files," Ed pointed out. Swallowing a yawn, he kicked his chair around so he could lean a little more against the wall, trying to get comfortable even as he carefully oriented so he sat right in the corner. It had been days since he'd left the padded room, days since he'd let himself actively think about it- and much longer, since he'd been able to sit anywhere else. The claustrophobia seemed to just swallow him whole. "I'm sure all the information we could ever want is in there."

"Yes, but to what end? If we go snooping- for information we're not even sure _exists,_ mind- and get caught... the risk just isn't worth it, Fullmetal." The older man sighed heavily, frowning to himself, then sent another mild glare in his direction. "We... also have another problem, though."

Ed smirked to himself. "Just one, Colonel Obvious?"

Roy groaned theatrically, once again treating him to one of the most melodramatic scowls _ever_. "Still can't believe I'm going out of my way to call you Fullmetal here, and all we've got for me is _colonel."_

"Well, what can I say? Guess I'm just a lot more important than you, to actually have a name that's _cool._ I mean, really." He grinned sharply, unable to help the enjoyment at the spark of annoyance in Roy's eyes. "Who wants to be called a crusty old colonel, anyway."

"...Yes. _Anyway_ ," Roy grunted. "As I was saying... a long while ago, Fullmetal, when you helped me start skipping their sedatives... you mentioned something about a memory blocker, didn't you?"

Ed almost physically felt his bold grin die.

"...Yeah," he murmured, spirits crashing and falling, just like that. "I did."

He'd been hoping, actually, to get through the rest of this place without Roy ever bringing _that_ up again.

There was a brief moment of silence, the weight of Roy's gaze almost too heavy to bear and the look in his dark eyes everything he wanted to avoid. He shifted awkwardly in his chair, hand clenching, stomach squirming.

"Based off the look on your face, I think you already know where I'm going with this, Fullmetal," Roy said at last.

Ed swallowed tightly, still looking away. "I already told you that I won't help you with that," he muttered crossly. "It didn't help me, and it won't help you."

"You remembered _something,_ though, didn't you?" Roy pressed urgently. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the older man lean forward, half reaching out to him, and Ed jerked backwards before he could even get close enough to touch him. "You must have. If you'd remembered nothing at all, it wouldn't be this big a deal. I understand if it didn't turn out very well for you, but... but, Fullmetal, we're out of options, at this point. Anything possible that I can remember before we get out of here..."

Ed stiffened again.

The memory of that rotting black corpse of a woman, that thing that smiled at him and called him sweetheart, rooted into him again, long, poisonous roots that made him feel sick, and he found himself inching back away from Roy, shivering and trying not to think about it.

"What- what does it even _matter?"_ he stammered at last, desperately looking anywhere but at him. "When we get out of here we'll stop taking their drugs anyway! Just wait until then!"

"Fullmetal." Roy leaned forward again, this time undaunted when Ed couldn't help jerk away, two dark eyes piercing through him in a stare that unsettled him to his core. "When we get out of here, we can't afford to spend a few weeks lying low, lost, trying to figure things out. These people? They are going to be _looking for us._ We're going to need to be prepared to step out onto the street, start running, and not look back. And, well... you're ready to do that." He broke off for a moment, pale features clouding as his face fell. "I'm not."

Once again unable to help himself, Ed pushed himself upright to start pacing again, hopping along the wall just to turn his back and get away from those inescapable eyes. "What are you talking about, we're in the exact same-"

"You're looking for someone close to you named Al. That's great- I'm being sincere, Fullmetal; I'm genuinely happy for you. You know what you're looking for. And I'll help you look for Al as much as I can, but..." The colonel sighed unhappily again, distress radiating in every syllable. "But I don't know what I'm looking for. And I can't run with you until I know that."

Ed already found his mouth open to retort, anger and something close to alarm pounding in his heart. Roy, because he was a smug bastard, had a point- he hated to admit, but he _did-_ but that couldn't matter. Ed had already promised to himself he wouldn't budge on this one. It wouldn't do any good, it wouldn't help him at all, it wouldn't make him feel _any_ better, it would just screw him over, and Ed wasn't going to let that happen and be his fault. He _wouldn't_ cave. He couldn't let himself...

"Fullemtal," Roy pushed quietly again- unyieldingly.

...and, what choice did he have?

Whether he liked it or not, Roy hadn't experienced what he had. All _Roy_ knew was that this his last option left to try and remember _something_ before they broke out of here.

And Ed knew that, if he was in Roy's shoes, he'd be doing exactly the same thing.

"You're such a jerk, you know," he muttered, glaring down at the floor. His skin crawled and his insides squirmed with trepidation, but he made himself turn his gaze back to where Roy was waiting silently for his answer. "You should trust me instead of screwing everything up for yourself."

"Well, you know me, evidently," Roy said, smirking. "If something's going to destroy me, I've got to find that out for myself- certainly can't be trusted to take the word of a shrimp like you, anyway."

"Shri- you- _fuck you!"_ The anxious apprehension sizzled into flat out irritation as he whirled back around on him, shoving off the wall to head right for him. "I told you, quit calling me that! You're such a- you- bas-... _Colonel Bastard!"_

Roy laughed loudly, smirk broadening as he kicked up his feet again and radiated an air of smugness so thick it was a wonder he didn't suffocate on it. He continued to grin proudly while Ed seethed, about ready to knock that stupid look off his stupid _face,_ when-...

 _Wait..._

It hit Ed in the same moment that it hit Roy.

And it cued a satisfying, and _complete,_ role reversal.

Ed turned more fully to face him, beaming in victory. "Well, would you look at that," he said, advancing.

"No," he groaned. "No." Roy buried his face in his hands, but even that couldn't hide the faint flush as Ed got closer, and it barely even muffled the second heavy groan. "I refuse. I won't accept this. _No."_

"Oh, but _yes."_

"No!" he insisted desperately again, voice almost cracking. "You do _not_ get a name like Fullmetal while I-"

"You're _bastard!"_

" _Noooo,"_ Roy moaned into his hands, practically cowering in his seat. "That's... that's _not_ it! It can't be-"

"You're _bastard!_ " Ed crowed again, almost shaking with the triumph. Because _that was it._ That was the name they'd both been searching for. The same spark of familiarity they'd both heard at Fullmetal had just been triggered again- and this time, it was with Roy, and _bastard._

Roy called him Fullmetal...

And Ed, apparently, had called him _bastard._

It was just too good to be true.

After several long moments, R- _the bastard_ gave a business-like sort of cough and lowered his hands, crossing his arms firmly over his chest. "Well," he announced huffily. "All this tells me, is that you are a rude, stubborn, offensive child, who refers to his elders using vulgarities and that you are _lucky_ that I ever put up with you."

"Yeah, yeah," Ed told him, just unable to stop himself from grinning as he waved off the idiot's nonsensical words. "And all this tells _me,_ is that I have _always_ known the truth about you. Bastard."

He could practically see the raincloud over his head as the older man slumped even more, fingers digging into his hair and hands smushing his expression to all ruin. "There is no longer any part of me whatsoever that holds any fondness at all for you, Fullmetal," he grumbled sourly, with all the pride of a sulky teenager, and Ed simply smiled back.

Best. Day. Ever.

...Or, best day ever that he could _remember,_ anyway, he corrected himself reluctantly.

Still smirking and victorious, but also almost euphoric in a way he couldn't really understand, Ed let the rest of his irritation from before be washed away in its entirety. He was Fullmetal- and somehow, inexplicably, Roy was _his_ bastard. Regardless of what happened while they were here, they would get through this. They'd survive this hospital and fight their way back to the friends they must have been before, and no matter what happened today, tomorrow, and the day after that, they were _going_ to find his Al and Roy's blue.

Nothing in this hospital was permanent.

Nothing here _mattered._

Unable to help his grin, Ed turned around to carefully start making his way towards the door; it was late, and they only had a few minutes before the nurses came along to send them to their separate rooms. He'd prefer to be in his already, so they couldn't push him down into a wheelchair. Even as he stewed in his own misery, Roy held out an absentminded hand to help him, and Ed made sure to give his shoulder a whack once he'd steadied himself with it. "Until tomorrow, _bastard,"_ he laughed warmly, and limped on towards the door even over Roy's loudest groan yet.

Upon reaching the hallway, however, he paused.

"...Bastard?" he called again, fingers digging into the doorframe.

There was an uncomfortable moment of silence. Roy's comically enraged, long-suffering look faded, a solemn light touching his eyes again, and Ed cleared his throat. "Tomorrow morning. ...Skip the red pill instead." He hesitated again, looking away from him. "That's what you're after."

He shifted for a moment longer, watching Roy to make sure he understood. The moment he saw the somber clarity start to darken his eyes, he turned away and left the room entirely, not wanting to stay for the thanks he knew he was about to get.

As per usual, around here, he wasn't looking forward to tomorrow.

* * *

Ed kept himself regressed back to be sedate and in control of himself after that, doing everything he could to keep the nurse who gave him his medication from realizing any little thing was off. He got through the night in the way that was becoming increasingly normal, around here; more nightmares, more jolting out of sleep gasping, more trying not to see the walls close in around him and forcing himself to not need to get out of bed and limp back down to Roy's room. He kept his mouth shut the next morning, too, sitting there silently quietly as the nurses gave him the usual morning spiel, and carefully suppressed his instinct to mouth off as they put him again into the wheelchair and started pushing him along towards their usual morning ritual of Justin's array. In some ways, he was actually grateful. It would take a little bit for the effects to kick in with Roy- if he was anything like him, anyway- and Ed was just too nervous and unhappy about what was going to happen to want to be sitting there and watch it go.

 _Besides,_ he reflected stubbornly, _I've got my own plans to take care of._

The journey to the room where Justin and the array waited was short. He was used to it, now, knew it like the back of his own hand, and he knew when they'd turned down what was to be the last hallway. He systematically shut down his reaction, the nausea, the fear, and just shut his eyes and made himself sit there and be fine.

 _You've only gotta do this a few more times. You're almost done. As soon as the bastard's done his thing and he's ready, you'll break out together and you'll never have to do this again. Just hold on for a little longer. That's all you have to do._

 _You can do that much._

 _You HAVE to._

"Oh!" Susan suddenly exclaimed from behind him; the wheelchair ground to a quick halt and Ed barely stopped himself from jumping. "I forgot, I left some of the paperwork back at our desks- would you mind going on ahead, to explain things to the doctor? I'll go fetch it and bring Edward along in a moment."

He didn't let himself react to the words, not at all; didn't let himself freak out, didn't let himself get worried, didn't let himself _care,_ even though a change in the routine promised nothing but something bad for him. He didn't look up from the floor at Ann's annoyed tsk behind his other shoulder. "Make sure you hurry," she said dispassionately, stepping around him to continue onwards on her own; Ed kept his eyes firmly down and didn't let himself care or be afraid.

He had to get through this now. Roy had probably already skipped the memory blockers by now. Roy was _already_ screwed over right now, and all Ed could only help if he got through this to make it back there with him. Overreacting and fighting back now wouldn't accomplish that.

Especially if it... if it got him back in that _room._

Ed clenched his jaw, glaring on downwards, and held himself perfectly still, refusing to allow himself to give in to the terror growing in his stomach.

No. He wouldn't do this. He _could not_ do this.

Even when the door had swung shut behind Ann, leaving him alone with Susan- and... she didn't move?

For several seconds, nothing happened at all. He just sat there waiting, and she just stood there silently behind him, and everything remained still and quiet.

Then, rather than start pushing him back in the other direction, she moved around to crouch own in front of him and meet his eyes.

"Edward?" she asked him gently, holding his gaze no matter how badly he wanted to pull away. "These treatments, we've been giving you. I know they're a little unorthodox, and hard on you, but... but, we've been giving them to you for a long while now, and..." She hesitated, voice dropping a little lower to be a hushed murmur, almost as if she was worried someone in this otherwise deserted hallway might overhear. "And I wanted to know if you felt they were helping you."

Ed blinked.

She... wanted to know _what?_

He didn't quite gape at her, but something of his shock must've been evident on his face, because she went on when he just stared at her blankly, utterly lost and flummoxed. "It can take a while, but patients are supposed to start showing- _and_ feeling- some improvement after a few weeks. If you're not, Edward, it's important that you tell me. We can change what we're doing to try and help you."

Ed stayed frozen in his wheelchair, not even allowing himself to pull away, not daring to any bit of the real reaction show on his face. He wouldn't. He _couldn't._ He couldn't dare risk it being a trap, because _everything_ here was a trap, and what would happen if he said the truth now? The nurses, Justin- everything in this hospital was against them. It was that simple. He couldn't trust this nurse just because she was suddenly kneeling in front of him, speaking softly and honestly, like she cared about him- because it was all lies- she'd put him in that room! She'd put him in that jacket and _left him there!_ She was one of the ones who'd- he couldn't trust her! She was a liar, and was trying to hurt him and Roy, and, and-

And this was the very first time anybody working in this hellhole had looked at him like that, and asked him something that honestly sounded as if it was trying to help him.

Ed hesitated a moment longer, breath caught in his throat.

"No," he said flatly, looking her dead on at last. "We're not feeling any better at all."

Really, at this point?

He had nothing left to lose.

Susan's eyes widened, gaze still locked with his, and she abruptly paled. Her expression remained curiously unreadable, whatever her motivation was to ask him that and whatever she was thinking now hidden away from him- but it was clear that answer hadn't been the one she was hoping for.

But, more than that, she was actually listening to him.

She stayed quiet for several moments, just staring at them, then cleared her throat and turned her gaze sharply away, face falling. "...Thank you for telling me," she rushed to mutter, drawing away from him in a sudden hurry to get back behind the wheelchair and push him along. It was faster than before and she didn't say a single word to him, but it was plainly obvious she was unhappy, and for one the first times, Ed found himself stricken into silence too.

What was going _on?_

"I'm sorry for the delay, Doctor," Susan rushed to say again the moment they were in the room, the array and the rocks already waiting. "It won't happen again."

Ed, in the usual A-level acting this place required, carefully examined the doctor's expression for every minute detail and tell while pretending to be so out of it he didn't even recognize him. Justin wasn't looking at Susan in any suspicious way, like this had all been a trick to get him to talk and now he was gauging what had happened... no, not at all. As far as Ed could tell, he was completely deluded and didn't have the slightest idea he'd been deceived, and either Justin was acting just as much as he was- or the doctor really didn't know what his subordinate had done. He hadn't ordered it at all.

Which meant... what?

After several moments, Ed just shook his head at himself and forced himself to continue with his act again, lowering his eyes to the floor as he prepared to go through with the forced transmutation again. It didn't matter what it meant, because he wasn't sicking around to find out. He and Roy were breaking out of here- _tonight,_ if at all possible. If Susan was actually trying to help them now, as unlikely as it was- too little, too late, in his damn opinion. If she'd wanted to help him, she wouldn't have left him in that fucking straitjacket in the first place.

It wasn't something for him to even waste the time to think about. He and Roy were headed out of here- nothing else mattered at all.

"Yeah," he muttered blearily to whatever the doctor had last said, by this point a true pro at tuning his ass out. He couldn't afford to screw things up or waste time on this now. His one and only priority had to be getting back to Roy- letting himself be thrown by this weirdness was just asking to mess this up. "Yeah. Sure."

He put his hand against the circle, pressed down hard, and focused.

It only took him a moment, this time, to get the reaction going. He kept his eyes fixed off away from the circle, not wanting to watch as the pebbles transformed into gold, not wanting to have to endure the wave of poisonous guilt this time as he did something he knew he wasn't meant to do.

 _This is the second rule..._

 _Never break the second rule..._

With his gaze glued back on the floor, and still shivering in the warm aftermath, Ed was only tangentially aware of the nurses approaching him from behind again, and he just barely managed to stop the flinch when he was lifted back into the wheelchair again. He closed his eyes and just breathed deeply, listening to the squeak of the wheels and the rhythmic footsteps behind him and fighting to keep calm.

He was tired. Justin kept increasing the size of the transmutations he had to do every time, testing the limits of how far he could go- at first it had been barely noticeable, but it was getting to the point that Ed felt it every time. His hand was trembling, and for just a few moments he was actually grateful for the wheelchair, because he probably wouldn't have been able to stand without it.

It was getting worse. Everything they were forcing him to do was getting worse.

Ed just left his eyes closed as he was moved along, listening with a growing sense of apprehension as he got closer and closer back to Roy. He was equal parts exhausted and nervous and it was just easiest to check out and _not be there_ for a little while- but he could make this trek in his sleep and he knew the moment they'd made it back to the ward, and before he could stop himself he was already opening his eyes and preparing himself to jump after Roy.

Then, of course, everything went to hell.

Roy was there, all right. Just standing there blankly in the middle of the room, hands loose and limp at his side, and looking at him.

Or, perhaps more accurately, _not_ looking at him- gazing in what might've been constituted to be his direction, sure, but there was absolutely no part of him that looked like he was aware. Not anymore.

His eyes were completely, horrifyingly blank.

Roy was standing dazedly in the center of the room, staring off in their direction with wide eyes and a stricken face and _nothing_ in him that was present. He looked straight over Ed's head and right past the nurses, gaze so terrifyingly focused he found himself turning around to make sure, heart pounding- but he'd already known there was nothing there.

Roy was standing there, focused on nothing...

 _Like he's seeing things._

Ed gulped.

He was barely aware of the nurses quietly conversing behind him, whatever Roy was doing so strange it was probably concerning even for a psych patient. Fooling the nurses wasn't important right now, figuring out what was wrong with Roy _was._

This wasn't right. Yeah, Ed had known things would be messed up, but _this?_ He hadn't been prepared for _this._

The day Ed had skipped the medication himself, he'd spent the entirety half conscious and totally out of it, lying in bed but shaking so hard he'd nearly rocked out of it. He'd seen... things. Things that had bordered on reality so close it tortured him, things that couldn't be real- but things that he _knew_ once had been. Blood everywhere, the smell of it, the _sound_ of it spilling from a wound. That horrible corpse of a woman asking him _why_ over and over again, a single word escalating into a screaming chorus that he couldn't ever answer to just because he couldn't _remember,_ he'd done something wrong and he wanted more than anything to apologize but he just didn't know what he'd done. People he was certain he knew materializing to scream at him, that suit of armor, the blonde girl, a huge dog, all blaming him for things he couldn't remember- he'd never felt so guilty in his life and all he'd wanted was to say _sorry_ but they wouldn't listen to him and he could do nothing but lie there and beg for mercy from ghosts that did not even exist.

But he'd known that. He'd known none of it had been real, and that was how he'd gotten through it. He'd known it was all from the drugs, or lack thereof, and even as he'd watched a bloodied housewife shout that he'd broken her trust or a small child with her dog beg him to save her or that rotting corpse fall apart before his eyes, he'd known they _weren't real._ He'd gotten through it, because they didn't exist, and he'd never believed they did.

But sitting here now and looking up at Roy...

It was clear that Roy _did._

"...Bastard?" Ed ventured weakly, staring up at the older man, who kept on staring straight past him with the most horrified expression on his face, stricken and torn and overwrought and just _nothing_ like the Roy he knew. "H-hey, uh, bastard?" Unsure of what to do, he waved a hand a little, hoping to get Roy to look at him but to no avail. "You okay...?"

Roy didn't respond to the words in any way, but when Ed actually reached out to touch his clenched hand, he got a blink. A single wide-eyed blink, the stricken horror in his dark eyes transforming into something else, something more alive, but if he'd been hoping for sane he was utterly let down. Roy jerked, wild eyes yanked from the wall to meet his at last, gasping and trembling, mumbling incoherently in a senseless stream under his breath, then-

"I can't do it," he whispered, voice wavering and stricken. "I can't... I'm supposed to kill them... my orders- _no..."_

"...Bastard?" Ed asked again, heart pounding so hard he could barely breathe.

Roy blinked again, focusing-not-focusing on him for one second more. Slowly, jerkily, dark eyes flitted to stare at the pair of startled nurses behind him.

And then, he lost it.

* * *

He was at war.

He had his orders, he had his targets, and by god he was _scared_ but ready to pull that trigger, and he was at war.

He couldn't find his commander, though.

He couldn't find his commander, he couldn't find the enemy, he couldn't find his gun, and he was so scared all he could do was run but there was nowhere to run _to._ Nowhere was safe any longer and he was trapped here without the freedom to run or the strength to fight-

 _Hughes?_

 _Hawkeye?_

"Hughes, Hawkeye, w-where-..."

 _Where are you...?_

 _Who are you?_

It was hot, everywhere. He could feel the heat pressing in around him, so oppressive and suffocating it scalded his skin when he moved, burned the inside of his lungs when he breathed. Hard, scorching sand shifted underneath his feet, which he knew was a lie- the floor was cold and white, just smooth tiles, that was all, but he _felt_ the sand and he cowered against the hot blast of wind and he hid from the fire he knew was coming but he just couldn't see. It was dangerous, here, he couldn't remember why but knew it wasn't safe-

If he could just find the person he had to protect- there was someone here, he had to keep them safe, that was all he had anymore and he knew it with every fiber of his being, there was... was someone... _who?_ There was someone here- he had to keep them safe-

 _I can smell the fire, oh, god-_

"Bastard?"

Bastard... bastard.

Bastard. That was who...

He blinked. The fires cleared, and he stared harder, eyes watering in the smoke to- to-

There was a child in front of him.

A child that he knew... was that who it was? Was that who he was supposed to protect? It had to be- the child was looking up at him, his eyes big and scared, waiting for him- that was who it was, wasn't it? That was who he had to protect. That child-

 _You have your orders, Major Mustang. Kill them._

No... no, he couldn't...

 _Kill them all._

No... Roy shook his head, stumbling backwards on shaking feet. No, no. Kill the child? No, he couldn't- _wouldn't_ do it. That wasn't his orders, he could never be ordered to kill a child, he was meant to _help_ people, not hurt them like this, not-

 _Kill them, Major Mustang! KILL THEM!_

He gasped violently again, reeling backwards on shaking feet. No, no, no-

There, there, behind the kid, right there- they were the ones forcing his hand. They were ones making him do this, they wanted to hurt him and hurt the child and watch the world burn- he had to stop them- oh, god, they were looking at him, they were coming-

" _NO!"_ he screamed, throwing the child behind him without a second thought. The child. The one that called him bastard- " _NO! No, NO!_ " He threw himself forwards at that, desperately writhing and punching, because he _knew_. It was their fault, it had to be! They were the ones ordering this- and he wouldn't do it. He _refused._ He wouldn't let this happen! He- he was supposed to _protect_ people, his job was to protect that child that had called him bastard, this was all he had anymore and he wasn't going to stop until they were _gone._

They fought back at him, hard, but he was stronger than them. He shoved them back and when one came at him again, he swung his fist so hard his shoulder ached and his knuckles cracked, and he'd never felt anything more satisfying in his life than when it collided with their face and sent his superior to the floor. _"STOP IT!"_ he screamed again, or maybe he didn't; maybe it was all in his head as he forced them back away over and over again, throwing his arms out to stop them from _ever_ getting behind him.

 _Kill them, Major Mustang._

 _You've already killed kids before, haven't you? You've killed them for us before; what's one more?_

 _What's one more, Major Mustang?_

The sands underneath his feet became scorching again, half of him flinching at the burning but the other half stymied and lost at the cold tiles and the fact that he _knew_ there wasn't any sand anywhere at all in the room. And suddenly it wasn't just the sand; suddenly the hot wind was back in his face, and he was surrounded in every direction, soldiers and the enemy behind him- and that child- why couldn't he remember his _name?!_

He could see all the blood...

The blood that- that was _his_ fault...

Suddenly there were others, there was more people on him, soldiers or the enemy- he didn't know; his arms were grabbed, a punch caught mid-air and then pinioned to his side, trapping his every attempt to fight back. They were saying something, shouting at him, but he couldn't hear them over the screaming in his head- oh, god, it was all in his _head..._

He gasped out, straining, fighting back; he just wanted to get out of here. Nothing else; he just didn't want to be here any more but he knew he _hated it,_ and he just wanted to go home but he couldn't remember that was- he couldn't _stand_ it here- _let me go! LET ME GO! NOW!_

He could see all the blood, all the children he'd killed- _no, no, no-_ see it on-

Fullmetal's face.

" _FULLMETAL!"_ he screamed desperately, but his arms were held back from reaching out and when he tried to lunge for him he was just yanked back in the other direction. _"Fullmetal, Full- Full-"_

His knees started to give out on him, his vision spiraled into black-

And all he could see was blood that he'd drawn, splattered all over Ed's stunned, terrified face.


	9. Chapter 9

Thank you all so much for reviewing!

* * *

It was the woman from before.

The blonde woman in the blue.

She was bleeding too. Just like Fullmetal had been. Just like everybody else. Just standing there in the dust and sand and fires, fires that he knew he'd caused. He tried to tear his eyes off her, squinting into the smoke that made his eyes water, but she followed his gaze and no matter where he looked she was waiting there- just watching him.

He knew this was his fault. The fires were _his._ He could feel them on his very fingertips- suddenly knew that they were scalded and blistered, each and every one of them, his hands raw with what he'd done. "Help me," he whispered; couldn't even hear it over the screams, didn't know why he was asking for it when he didn't deserve it. "Help me _, please."_ He stared up at the woman, meeting her steady, impassive eyes as she just stood there against the smoke and the flames- and she didn't help him.

"Who am I?" she asked again.

"I don't _know,_ I'm sorry," he half-sobbed. "I don't know-"

"You don't deserve my help. You betrayed me. You betrayed me, like you betrayed everyone." She stopped, watching him still, making no attempt to kneel down to his level. "Who am I?"

He shook his head pathetically, choking on his breaths, staring in rising despair at the scene around him. A ruined street, worn and cracked and scorched, buildings crumbling, ruins splattered with fresh blood. A city... it had once been an entire city, hadn't it? There'd been people here... lives...

children...

He knew this place. He wasn't just here now; he'd been here before. He'd been here when it was still a city and _he_ had been the one to reduce it to bits. He could hear the fires in his ears, over and over again as he blew this place apart- and not just the place, but the people, too. He'd done this, hadn't he? Hadn't he?!

"Yes, you did, Roy," the woman said, and he tore his horrified gaze back to her, chest heaving as she just watched him. "This was you."

He looked on, taking in all of the blood around him, the bodies, the ruins, the death. He looked at what this woman was saying that he had done- and he couldn't prove his own innocence. He didn't remember doing all of this, but he'd been here, hadn't he? He could hear the earth-shattering explosions and blood-curdling screams, as real as the woman in blue and the tattoo on his back; felt himself flinching and crying out with each one, terror coursing through him and panic flooding him with every blow. He jerked and strained, fighting to cover his ears but his arms just wouldn't move no matter how hard he tried; it was like he'd been filled with lead and chained down and now had _no choice_ but to sit here and bear witness to what he'd done- but he _didn't_ want to see it, he _didn't-_

"Watch," she told him calmly, utterly cold and unreadable, terrifyingly impassive. He screamed and thrashed, throwing himself away from her but he could barely even move and the visions just followed him regardless. The fires, oh god, the fires; they were _everywhere,_ and he was the one who'd set them, hadn't he? All of them were _his,_ and- and- _"Watch,"_ the woman commanded again, and he was helpless to do anything but comply.

He watched as his flames burned a country to the ground.

He couldn't deny it any more, if he'd ever been able to in the first place. This was his work. Every last bit of it, committed by his own hand. He watched as streets were seared and cracked under the sheer heat, stones splintering apart to dust. He watched as the approaching army melted before his eyes, a squad of a dozen soldiers blasted to bits with one raise of his hand. He watched, as he slaughtered a nation.

He watched with the woman, as he turned his flames even on the women and children that ran from him for their lives.

"You did this," she told him again, and when he desperately shut his eyes all he could see was the red of the heat even in the darkness. "You did this. You betrayed me." A smokey, indistinct hand grabbed his face and wrenched his eyes open, forcing him to watch again as his fires razed homes, schools, innocents to the ground, and he _knew_ it was his fault.

"Why?" she asked him again, and it hurt all the more that her voice was just a steady, calm murmur, and not the screams that echoed in his own head. "Who am I?"

" _I don't KNOW!"_

"You do," she told him, not missing even a beat, and her brown eyes felt as if they were boring into his very soul. "Remember, Roy," she commanded softly, and then she was gone- and he'd been left with his fires and no way to stop them from burning the world down, and him with it.

He wasn't sure if he screamed again. His throat hurt like he was, but he couldn't hear it over the overpowering rush of the flames.

" _What's my name?"_

* * *

There other faces. Others that he knew, besides the woman.

When he wasn't surrounded by the storm of the fires, _his_ fires, his _murders,_ the faces that he knew were there instead. Too fast for him to ever recognize them; so many they were nothing more than a nauseating blur, all cold and accusing, a dozen or more that he'd let down as he slaughtered a nation.

Other soldiers who he'd failed and let die; he watched over and over again as the order was given and he'd run as fast as he could, racing towards them faster than he'd ever run in his life, his heart pounding so hard it burned in his chest- but he never reached any of them until it was too late to do anything but watch them die. Scores of soldiers over and over again, and there was _nothing_ he could do to ever save them.

" _Your only worth is that of a murderer,"_ he heard, and didn't even know if it was his own words or not.

There were still others, others that he knew, others that he failed. He didn't know any of their names as they paraded on past him, bloodsoaked soldiers who wouldn't so much as turn their heads to look at him. He'd let them all down. He knew it as sure as he knew anything. He'd failed them all, and he had to apologize, but his mouth was dry as ash and every time he tried to find the words he choked on his own blood.

" _You're a killer, a murderer, a monster, a monster, a monster"_

 _MONSTER_

Fullmetal's face was in there too, sometimes; terrifying and turned away from him like he knew he was a killer. He saw him over and over again; saw him small and bleeding, hunched over in a wheelchair like the very life and soul had been ripped out of him. "Was that me?" he tried to ask, horror brewing in his chest; visions of the children he'd killed flashing and flashing before his eyes, "Did _I_ do that to him?" but it was already gone. He saw the boy on his own two feet- since when, since when did he have both legs, _what-_ but the boy was screaming at him, rage in his eyes, waving an arm about like he wanted to hit him- he'd apologize, he was sorry, Roy swore to god that he was sorry but just didn't know what he'd _done-_

"You're a murderer," he heard again, and this time saw the speaker; an indistinct shadow again, a dark form with glasses that leaned over him and when he shrank back just moved even closer. "I told you, you have to be a murderer here. You don't have a choice. It's your orders, Major Mustang. _Kill them."_

He gasped and tried to pull away again, but his arms were pinioned and each and every struggle just made it harder to breathe; panic expanded in his chest and he fought and sobbed but the smoke and flames and the man just wouldn't go. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he babbled, "I don't want to see this anymore, _stop-"_

The man said something else; Roy didn't know what, couldn't hear it over the fires. All he saw was him stepping closer again, hands patting all over again, a blanket materializing form nowhere to be pulled over his shoulders. He didn't know why he was so scared but he _was_ , and he tried to yank back again but there was nowhere to go.

The hands reached for his face this time, and this time, Roy lunged out and bit them.

More shouting and screaming, more hands all over him, more voices in his head. His face felt bruised and his body was sore and all he could was _screaming_ as he burned the world alive- and then the man was gone and he tasted blood still in his mouth and there was nothing in the world anymore but the people he'd killed.

He'd killed them _all_.

This time, when he tried to scream, it felt like it was being shoved back down his own throat.

 _I'm sorry. I don't want to be here anymore. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for it all, so please- please just STOP._

He hated all of this and just wanted it over. He couldn't be here anymore; he wanted to take Fullmetal and go home, wherever or whatever that was; he just wanted to take Fullmetal and go _home._ He couldn't be here anymore; it was too hard, too much, all of it, he was so, so sorry and didn't want to see anymore-

But he'd hurt Fullmetal, hadn't he? He remembered- he'd seen Fullmetal like that, when his limbs had first been taken, he'd _seen_ him, he'd- he'd-

" _YOU HURT HIM! YOU DID THIS TO HIM!"_

 _No- No, I didn't, I wouldn't have-_

" _IT WAS YOU!"_

 _I-_

 _Fullmetal-_

He'd done this. He'd done it _all._

" _ **IT WAS YOU!"**_

And no matter how much he tried to scream, beg, howl for the voices to stop, he couldn't say a single word, and the flames continued.

* * *

"What's my name?"

 _I DON'T KNOW!_

"What's my name? You know my name."

 _I DON'T KNOW!_

"You betrayed me, Roy. Why did you betray me? What's my name?"

 _ **I DON'T KNOW!**_

* * *

It was when he watched his fires burn an innocent village to the ground that it happened.

The woman came back, kneeling by his side as the world around them burned into ash. "Who am I?" she asked quietly again, and Roy had just seen her too many times to give her anything but a pathetic shake of his head and a broken sob.

"You know who I am," she said again, and pointed down to the city again. "Watch."

 _I can't see this again... I'm sorry... don't make me..._

"But you have to watch," she told him, and even he tried to close his eyes he still saw the searing red of the embers scorching down to his soul. "You know what happens, Roy. Part of you remembers. You _have_ to let it happen. Let the part of you that remembers show the rest of you who you really are." She pointed to the burning village again, to the screams, to the children dying, the lives destroyed, and whispered, "Let me show you,", and-

And he just didn't have the strength to stop it anymore.

He watched as the village burned. He watched himself destroy it, flames alight on his hands and burning the world alive. He watched as the earth itself was scorched and as he tore it to pieces, he watched until his eyes bled and his soul had died and there was nothing left in the world but ash.

 _Please..._ He looked at the woman, horror suffocating his heart into pieces all over again. _Please... no more..._

"Watch," she commanded softly, and he did.

And this time, it changed.

The broken, desert floor; the streaked paths his burns had left in its sands- they curved and changed, their flames morphing as they raced across the desert floor. They turned in on each other, burning and burning and burning; there were screams, there was blood, he could smell burning flesh, but this time there was a _point;_ the black, burned sands were forming something, come together to create- _something-_

"You know," the woman chanted softly, "you know. You know this. _Watch,_ Roy," and as he watched, the fires rushed forwards and he felt their heat gnawing away at his very bones _but it was there._

What she wanted him to see. It was _there._

There in the sands, the desert that he'd burned to the ground, there were burns that he'd created from others flesh and blood now twisted together into something that he _knew._ A black circle, black triangles within, a scorched, bleeding salamander, and in it he could hear screams and taste burning flesh and it was- an array, he realized. Just like the array inked onto his and Fullmetal's backs. It was an _array._

"It's _your_ array," she told him quietly- and then she was there, standing in _his_ array, watching him, burning. "This is your array, Roy. Do you remember it? Do you remember me?"

 _I... no, I... I'm sorry..._

But she just went on in that same soft, quiet voice, the one without accusation or blame, the one that would've been easier to hear if she'd been screaming it at him. "Why did you burn me, Roy?" she asked him, and turned her back, the faded blue of her clothes vanishing, and-

Oh. Oh god. On her back, that was-

That was his array. Inked into her just like what had been inked into him and Ed. Huge and bleeding and _wrong,_ and it was his array- he'd put it there, hadn't he? He'd done that to her, he'd hurt her-

"Why did you burn me, Roy?" she asked, and the array burst into flames.

 _His_ flames.

 _NO! NO! STOP!_ He tried to reach forward, tried to will them to stop, tried to tell his brain to just _stop showing him this_ but the flames roared higher and _hotter;_ he could feel her skin blistering from here, hear her crying, _no please stop showing this to me stop stop stop please I'm sorry_ he watched her skin melt and slough and burn and he _screamed_ and she sobbed and he couldn't stop it, it was all his fault, he couldn't stop it-

"Why did you burn me, Roy? Why did you betray me? Why? _Why?!"_

Then there were others; the form with the glasses again, a fist swinging to crack into his jaw, hand fisting in his shirt, shouting in his face. "How could you?! How could you do this to her?! She was your _friend,_ you- you were supposed to fall in love with her, Roy, _how could you hurt her like this?!"_ and he heard her sobbing again and he just wanted it to stop.

 _I'm sorry! I'M SORRY!_

 _I'M SO SORRY!_

 _Please... stop..._

" _WHAT'S MY NAME?!"_ she screamed, and burning skin and still blistering tattoo and all, she was on him.

"What's my name?! What's my name, Roy?! What's my name?!"

"I don't know-" he tried to say but the words came out all wrong and mushed; he couldn't even understand himself, it was pathetic, it was all lies, it couldn't stop her as she pushed him down and clawed at his face and neck, scratching deep bleeding furrows into his skin as her back burned and she screamed the words at him over and over again, demanding, demanding, _demanding_ an answer.

"What's my name? Why did you burn me?! Why'd you betray me?! _What's my name?!"_

 _I'm sorry! I'm SORRY! I DON'T KNOW!_

" _WHAT'S MY NAME?!"_ she screamed again, and it was too loud, everything was too loud; fires roaring behind them, Ishval burning to the ground, Fullmetal shouting in pain, the soldiers he'd let die calling his name, a bird screaming, a hawk _screaming,_ " _What's my name, what's my name?!"_ and her hands were on him again, scratching up his face, dripping, bleeding fingertips reaching for his eye, it _hurt, "WHAT'S MY NAME?!"_ the hawk was screaming, her hands reaching to gouge out his eyes _"YOU KNOW MY NAME! SAY IT, ROY, SAY IT-"_

" _HAWKEYE!"_

Everything stopped.

" _Riza Hawkeye."_

The name echoed in his mind over and over again. Blood dripped, he could still hear the faint sizzle of her skin that _he'd_ caused, but the fires had stopped and she remained frozen now, just kneeling over him with her hands on his face, and just like that, he knew.

He knew with every fiber of his being that this was Riza Hawkeye.

"Riza Hawkeye. Riza Hawkeye, Riza Hawkeye, Riza Hawkeye."

And, for the first time since he had ever known her, Riza Hawkeye smiled.

"Yes, Roy," she told him. "Remember that."

Then, at last, she vanished.

But the memory of her didn't, and Roy clung to that with absolutely everything that he was worth.

 _Riza Hawkeye. Riza Hawkeye. Riza Hawkeye._

He didn't have anything else, anymore. These people had taken absolutely everything that he'd ever had away from him- but now, he had two things back.

Fullmetal, and Riza Hawkeye.

* * *

When Roy finally found himself again, his head was still swimming, and his body ached so much he felt like one giant bruise.

He blinked slowly, vision gently filtering down from a blurry haze into something that made sense. White, he realized. He was looking at something white. He was lying on something soft.

Still a little too out of it to grasp much else of what was going on around him, he groaned, an exhausted, dry, croaking groan in his dry mouth and sore throat. He felt too tired to sit up just yet but started to roll onto his side, trying to alleviate some of the pain in his back and shoulders.

Then, he stiffened.

Slowly, he looked down at himself.

He stiffened again.

This was...

 _Ah,_ he realized distantly, an embarrassed sort of heat touching his face, and lay his head back down on the soft, padded floor.

Ah.

So _this_ was what they'd done to Ed.

Suddenly, the shaken, terrified mumbles of _white_ and _j-j-jacket_ made complete sense to him.

After another moment, Roy squirmed around a little again, trying to make more sense of what he remembered and where he was now. The restraints were impossibly tight; he could feel the straps and buckles biting into him with each movement, and even as his face turned red with embarrassment again he shook his head at himself, trying to understand what had happened. There was a blanket, too, not really around him, tangled up by his feet somewhere but still a blanket, one that he even half-remembered being given...

But in that case, how much of what he'd seen had actually been... real?

Roy swallowed, his panic rising.

He didn't remember what he'd done to deserve this. To end up locked in this room. He couldn't... because all of this haze in his memories now- the fires, the woman, the people he'd... hurt... He shook his head vigorously, trembling. No, none of that was _now,_ right? No- no, surely he'd- done _something_ to deserve such drastic measures- he shifted his arms a little again in the restraining jacket, equal parts nervousness and humiliation washing through him- but he just... couldn't remember...

He started to open his mouth, hoping to call out to someone that he was awake. Someone who could just tell him what had happened to him.

He stopped again.

His mouth...

He felt around with his tongue for a second, then moved his jaw a little bit. Horror and embarrassment swept through him again.

There was something in his mouth stopping him from biting down. Stopping him from even talking. Something hard and plastic and cold, and it took a moment or two to shove his gag reflex back as he tried to spit the foreign object out, but to no avail.

They'd shoved something in his mouth to stop him from biting.

This time, it took him more than several seconds to calm his gag reflex down, and a truly herculean effort to stop himself from panicking.

Slowly, fighting to keep calm, he looked around the room he'd found himself in again, trying to orient himself and stop the anxiety attack he could already feel coming on. There was clearly no way out. He was pretty sure he could get to his feet and walk, but it didn't matter; looking over to what he thought was the door into his little padded cell, there was not even a knob for him to grab if his hands had been free. There was no way to open it from this side. And unlike his usual hospital room, which, barred or not, still had windows, there was absolutely nothing of the sort here. There was no way out, and with that thing in his mouth, he didn't even have the recourse to scream for help.

Which meant, he tried very hard to stress to himself, that someone would have to be along to check on him very soon. After all, they didn't want to _kill_ him, right? This was an awful lot of trouble to go to to kill someone. No- someone would have to come in here very soon, and when they saw he was conscious and coherent again- like, evidently, he had _not_ been for a while- then everything would be okay. Right? After all, if he was right about this having been what they'd put Ed through- that hadn't been meant to be permanent, obviously. They'd let Ed out of here. They'd have to let him out of here, too.

They... they _had_ to.

As hard as he tried to convince himself of it, though, panic still beat in his chest, and it took every bit of self-control he had to stop himself from losing it.

 _Riza Hawkeye. Riza Hawkeye. Riza Hawkeye._


	10. Chapter 10

Thank you all so much for reviewing!

And... yay. The site melted down. Again. Yay. Go FFN. Well- yeah. Thanks to those of you who actually managed to get through and leave a review for me; seriously, it means a lot. But now, onwards! :D

* * *

At last, the door to Roy's padded cell finally swung open.

He had to fight not to jump, still trembling all over and forced silent on the padded floor. He had to fight even harder not to panic. He didn't, however, have to fight not to scream, because he still simply couldn't, with the gag still in his mouth.

It was Susan again, he realized. The one he'd once thought that he'd have luck in trying to win over to his side of things, but now, after... whatever he'd done... surely saw him as crazy as Ann did. She _did_ look just as uncertain and nervous as he currently felt, if such a thing were possible, and-

His heart skipped a beat.

She'd been beaten up.

She had a black eye. She had a split lip. Her right hand was wrapped with bandages.

His heart skipped another beat.

 _He lunged forward... biting, tearing..._

He'd... had he... done this?

Was this... _him?_

The world crashed around him like it'd been smashed with a sledgehammer, and his stomach dropped.

 _This_ was why they'd stuck him in a straitjacket and padded cell, where he couldn't hurt anyone?

 _This_ was why they'd gagged him?

Not to shut him up, but so he couldn't _bite_ anyone?

He'd actually-

 _Oh, god..._

"Roy?" the nurse asked hesitantly, voice hoarse, still just hovering in the doorway.

It took far more effort than it should to stop himself from leaping to his feet and making a run for it right then and there.

After several moments- because he obviously couldn't exactly respond to her- she cleared her throat and took another small step forward, still keeping her distance from him almost like he was a wild animal. And honestly, Roy couldn't even blame her any longer. "Roy," she said again, a touch more confident this time, "if you understand me, can you nod?"

He swallowed hard, heart pounding. Slowly, he nodded.

She lingered in the doorway a few moments longer; somehow, Roy was relieved to see she was alone. She seemed unsure about something, he couldn't possibly know what, but at last she moved forward, dropping carefully to her knees a foot or two away from him- just far enough, he saw, that if he tried to attack her, she'd be able to get away in time.

His stomach turned uneasily again.

If he was right, about how she'd gotten hurt like that...

Once again, he could hardly blame her.

"Are you calm now?" she asked him, her bandaged right hand clenching a little on the padded floor. "If I take that off, will you try and do something?"

He shook his head vigorously, staring at her right in the eyes, trying desperately to get his intentions through to her. He didn't know what she'd seen him as in the days before now; all he could do was look at her and shake his head and try and say _yes, I'm coherent, yes, I'm okay, please let me out of this thing,_ _ **please.**_

If this really was what they'd done to Ed... not because he'd been out of his mind with drugs, but just because he'd said _no_ to what they were forcing him to do...

He wanted to kill them all over again, and was almost taken aback with a cold, almost overwhelming wave to realize that, with his history, with his fires- he probably actually _could._

But Susan, thank god, had no idea what he was thinking. Susan had no idea of any such murderous intentions and, with only another slight bit of hesitation, reached forward with both gloved hands to gently ease the gag from his mouth. It hurt his teeth, every bit of motion uncomfortable, mouth left gummy and dry- but it was _gone,_ and he'd never been so relieved for anything in his life.

Or, hell if he knew, right?

After all, he still remembered next to nothing.

Just his past as a- as a-

 _Murderer._

Susan watched him excruciatingly carefully as she moved, as if just waiting for the moment when he'd snap and bite at her again. Roy desperately wanted to work his sore jaw, to rub it with his hands, but he couldn't move his arms and didn't dare move his face until she was well back away from him, too afraid of doing the wrong thing and tempting her to shove that thing back in his mouth. He couldn't even look at it, only catching a bare glimpse of something small, metal, and damp before he ripped his eyes away to the ceiling, panic again expanding inside him as he worked his jaw back and forth, heart still pounding.

"Did..." He stopped, clearing his throat. God, his voice sounded _awful._ How many days had it been since he'd been allowed to speak? "Did I do that, to you?" He nodded at the bruises without really looking.

"...Yes," she said after a moment. She sounded just as unsure of herself as he did.

Roy paused, hesitant as to what to say. He knew this had all been prompted by the drugs, but couldn't very well admit to skipping them to her- but he didn't want her to think he was even crazier than she had before. Though that ship may have already sailed, by this point...

"Can you let me go now, please?" he managed at last, awkwardly shifting a little against the wall in the restraints. "I... feel much better now." The lie tasted a little bitter in his mouth, but it was a fair price to pay to get out of here and back to Ed.

Suddenly, uncertainty grew in his throat again.

Back to Ed...

But he'd... he'd hurt him. Hadn't he? He remembered... he'd been...

He'd been there when he'd lost his limbs. He had to have been. He remembered Ed sitting in a wheelchair many years younger and with the stumps still bloody, and the only way he could remember that is if he had _been there_ himself.

And he'd... he'd hurt and killed so many people...

 _I did that to him, didn't I?_

 _It was me._

Roy took a quick breath, swallowing tightly as self-loathing and guilt stabbed him straight through again and left him trembling. Right now, all he wanted to do was help Ed. Maybe- maybe his memories were the truth. Maybe he was a murderer. Maybe he was a psychopath who deserved to be in a place like this. It was too much for him to even try to grasp now, all far too overwhelming, but whatever he was- Ed wasn't.

And he wanted to help Ed.

He couldn't do that from this little padded room.

Susan went quiet for a few moments again, averting her eyes and looking even more hesitant and unsure of herself than before. The bruises on her face kept his stomach nauseated and stuck through with guilt but Roy watched her anyway, on the edge and tense, because knowing what he did now nothing mattered anymore except getting out of this room and helping Ed.

 _Murderer..._

 _Riza Hawkeye Riza Hawkeye Riza Hawkeye_

"All right," Susan told him finally, eyes still narrowed, slightly suspicious- but she was giving him a chance and that was all he could ask for. "You do seem to feel much better now. I'm... not really supposed to, but..." She bit her lip, turning a little to stare over her shoulder as if someone might be eavesdropping or about to burst in at any second, but there was no one there at all. Still, she moved towards him almost as if what she was doing was wrong, rushing to loosen the straps and pull the straitjacket from his shoulders; again, Roy wanted to do nothing more than relish in his newfound freedom for the first time in days- but was too afraid to do anything but hold absolutely still, terrified that any wrong move would reverse the progress he'd made and he'd find himself right back where he'd been before.

The nurse waited a moment or two, as if to see if he was about to attack her again. When he did not so much as move, she let out a little sigh of relief, but the tension in the room remained as she darted back forward and grabbed the blanket, balling it up like she was trying to hide it, like it was wrong, too, but Roy was too relieved to mind.

He stretched, though agonizingly carefully. His shoulders and back hurt. He remembered Ed acting the same way, when the kid had finally gotten out of here, and- well, that jacket fucking _hurt._ But Roy knew he had to be careful and barely let himself move, keeping his eyes on the nurse at all times, too frightened and wary of doing anything that could ever possibly be perceived as a threat. He interlaced his fingers carefully, flexing his hands out, then-

Roy blinked. Stiffening, he stared back down at his hands.

He blinked again.

His hands... his _arms..._

Deep, dark, twisted scratches lined his arms, jagged and ugly, half healed, half not. His fingertips were stained red and torn, and the closer he stared the more he realized that those things caught in his nails were bits of his own flesh.

He'd done this to _himself._

 _But I don't... remember..._

There was something intensely disturbing, about seeing damage he'd inflicted on his own skin. There was something even more disturbing about not even remembering doing it.

"Those are from a few days ago," the nurse said uncomfortably; Roy barely stopped himself from jumping. "You were quite... upset."

He swallowed tightly, hands still trembling. _I'd say._

Susan approached him again, and instinct drove him to just drop his hands immediately and sit limply back against the wall, desperately trying to look like he wasn't a threat. "Come on," she said briskly, reaching down to take both his hands, trying to get him to stand. "The doctor wanted to see you as soon as you felt better."

Roy held back a grimace, his sluggish mind turning over the words in almost nauseated worry. The doctor... that was who Ed had talked about. That meant he was being moved on to what they were making Ed do. That meant-

No, it didn't matter what that meant, because everything that happened to him was all irrelevant. He had to just keep his mouth shut to get out of here. He had to help Ed. He had to be quiet.

He'd do whatever he had to do to get out of here.

Roy allowed the nurse to pull him to his feet. His head swam dizzily, insides revolting as he stood for the first time in however long; the nurse tried to support him and he couldn't help but yank back, leaning against the wall as his vision slowly righted itself and his stomach settled back down, but oh _hell_ was he exhausted and just wanted to lie back down and sleep. He bit back a groan, swaying back and forth, and forced his feet to move as soon as he could feel his legs, stumbling ahead even before the sickening blur had retreated from his head. He had to keep moving. He had to keep going.

"How's F- Edward?" he groaned, as soon as he could find the words and his voice.

He thought he could feel her looking at him oddly, one hand still holding his elbow as he was helped to the door, and straight out of the little padded cell. He felt it more with his bare feet, moving from soft rubber to cold tiles, and would've been more relieved if he remembered more than a few minutes spent in that room.

Like Ed did.

Because, if the nurse was to be believed, he'd only spent a few days in there, and most of it drugged out of his mind- but Ed had been in there all alone for _two. weeks._

Shit. _Shit._ And he'd been alone all this time?! _I- I have to get back to him-_

"He's... doing well," Susan said uncomfortably, seeming a little thrown by the question, and he knew it was a stock answer more than anything. Ed was not _doing well._ He hadn't been doing well a single day since he'd ended up here. It was a stock answer, and a lie-

But, if he'd been doing drastically _worse,_ he would've gotten something else. Wouldn't he have? So he was at least no worse than before-

 _Before you ignored his advice and stopped those drugs, you mean._

Roy swallowed again, shivering in the cold air.

He should've listened to him.

God, he wished he'd listened to him.

 _Riza Hawkeye Riza Hawkeye Riza Hawkeye..._

The nurse led him carefully down the hallway, thankfully going slowly enough that he could manage to stay on his feet and keep up without looking like an invalid. Roy didn't remember his journey _to_ the room so certainly didn't recognize where he was going as he was taken away from it, something that only unsettled him more as Susan unlocked yet another set of doors and led him through it.

And this time, from Ed's descriptions alone, he knew where he was.

Big, black array on the floor. An array that sent stabs of unease and distrust down his spine. _His_ array flickered through his mind, the seared circle with the salamander that was all _his,_ but this was different, and he didn't like it. Tiny rocks waiting in the center, waiting right for him. The clear expectation that he was to transmute those to his captors' pleasure.

A man, sitting by the side- and just like that array and those rocks, waiting for him. He looked innocuous, he thought; a slight, smiling figure, maybe a little older than he was, hands stuck in his doctor's coat and brown eyes blinking at him in surprise. After however long he'd been here for Roy just shut down immediately, faking like he'd taken today's dose of sedatives as he lowered his gaze to the ground, eyelids drooping and shoulders slumping, mouth firmly shut.

 _You just have to get through this. Just a little more and you'll be able to protect Fullmetal again. Just keep your mouth shut and get through this, Roy.  
_

"...Oh," the doctor said after several moments; he could almost hear the frown on his voice. "Well- hello, then, Roy."

Clearly, he hadn't been expected. Roy held back a wince, wondering how many times a nurse had stuck her head into that little padded cell and found him still tied up and insensate on the floor, screaming hoarsely past a disgusting, spit-soaked gag. "Mmm," he mumbled under his breath, fingers twitching with the urge to back away, get the hell out of here.

"Well," he said again, obviously still taken aback. "It's... nice to meet you, Roy. I'm the doctor who's been overseeing your case, while you're a patient here- you can call me Justin."

 _Yeah, I fucking know who you are. Fullmetal's told me everything I need to know about you._ "Mmm," he muttered again, something deep in his chest revolting at the very act of feigning submission to this man.

"I see you've been having a rough time of things lately. No need to worry about that; with the treatment you're starting today, we'll be able to have you feeling much better, very soon."

 _I'll feel better when I've gotten Fullmetal and broken out of here._

Roy swallowed thickly, the inside of his mouth still dry and tasting somewhat of medicine; definitely nauseating. He just nodded again to whatever he was being told, keeping his eyes down on the floor and going along with everything that he had to. He just had to get through this next part, that was all that was left, once he did this he could get back to Ed...

The doctor was telling him what he had to do; the same that Ed had already told him, the same that Ed had been doing for a while now. In his current state, it was easy enough for him to tune the words out, that was the easiest way for him to stay calm- he let the nurse guide him forward and carefully got down to his knees of his own accord, already reaching his hands forward to the dark, dangerous circle.

He knew it was wrong. He didn't know how, but just looking at it- Roy knew he _wasn't supposed to._ Just like Ed had said- or maybe it was _because_ Ed had warned him? He wasn't sure... but he knew that touching that circle wasn't right.

It was wrong. Just like every bit of his alchemy was- was-

 _burning screaming bleeding a nation destroyed_

...wrong.

Roy shuddered, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment and physically forcing back the waves of nausea and distrust. No. Didn't matter. Ed had already told him what this was; all he was doing was making gold, and compared with the rest of what he'd done with his alchemy?

Compared with the atrocities he'd already committed before in his lifetime, this was nothing.

 _This won't hurt anyone._

Guilt turned over in his stomach once again, his eyes burning, his hands shaking, _why did you burn me, Roy? Why did you betray me?,_ and he again just shut his mind down and touched his hands to the circle.

Nothing happened.

There was an awkward moment of silence. Roy blinked, brow furrowing, and stared harder at the circle, it's deep black lines and symbols just sitting there inscrutably, not responding to him in the slightest. He tilted his head, staring at it in confusion. What was going on? Ed hadn't said there was anything else to it... he'd just put his hand to the circle, and- bam. Hand to circle- gold.

He pressed his hands harder against the floor, stomach twisting with unease. Nothing happened again. Nothing at _all._

 _No... no, hang on... don't do this to me, come on, WORK..._

Roy leaned back, separating his slightly trembling hands from the floor entirely, then slapped them back down so hard his palms stung. _Work, damn it! I have to get back to Fullmeta now! Just WORK! PLEASE!  
_

Nothing.

The circle didn't even _try_ to respond.

Roy brought his hands slowly back, still trembling as he stared at the impossible designs on the floor and then his own reddened, still scratched up hands. It wasn't working. It just- wasn't.

Why wasn't it working?

No, no- it _had_ to work. He had to get out of here! He couldn't help Ed if he was stuck here, could he?! And if this didn't work, if he couldn't force the circle to do what he wanted it to, then they'd just assume he was fighting them again and he'd end up back in that padded room all over again, and- and-

He slammed his hands down again, panic driving a gasp from his chest. If he could burn a country down, slaughter a nation for no reason at all- he could do this one thing for Ed, couldn't he? _Couldn't he?!_

 _WORK, DAMN IT! PLEASE!_

There was an awkward, uncomfortable sort of cough behind him. Aside from that, the room was dead silent, and the circle was just dead.

"...Well, then," Justin said after several moments, plainly unhappy with him.

Roy just couldn't make himself turn around to face him, fear and panic spreading inside him in equal parts as the array remained impossible before him. "No, wait, I- just give me a chance-" He turned back around, pushing his hands against the circle all over again, but to no avail. He might as well have been punching a concrete wall, for all the success it was giving him.

Suddenly, panicked or not, Roy found himself whirling around to face the doctor, no longer able to give a single thought towards trying to feign being sedated out of his mind. "I'm trying, I am! I don't know why it's not-" He was _trying._ He was! He was trying as hard as he could; why wasn't it working?! It wasn't working, it wasn't working- oh, god, they were going to send him back to that room, they were never going to let him out, and Fullmetal-

 _That's it._

 _Fullmetal._

Fullmetal knew how to do this. Fullmetal already _had!_

 _If you can just make it back to him…_

"Let me come back tomorrow!" The words burst out of him before he even knew what he was saying, desperate and almost pleading as he started for the man, still on his knees, heart pounding through his chest in terror. "I- I don't feel well today, I'm sorry, I'm not lying- just let me try again tomorrow! I'll be able to do it then, I promise! I don't feel well today, but I'll do it tomorrow! Just let me try!"

Justin just looked down at him, distinctly unimpressed, eyes narrowed and head tilted to the side like Roy was just a showpiece, and a bad one at that. "Roy," the doctor started dryly, his voice heavy, annoyed, and Roy's heartbeat skyrocketed.

 _Oh, god, he doesn't believe me. He thinks I'm lying, and he's not going to let me go back, he's going to- oh, god, I'm sorry, Fullmetal, I can't-_

"I think that sounds acceptable."

Both Roy and Justin stiffened.

Susan stepped out from behind him again, starting a step forwards before she seemed to realize that step would take her right into the transmutation circle. Paling a little, swallowing audibly, the nurse delicately moved her foot back but kept her gaze steady on the doctor in what was obviously taking a great deal of bravado from her. "Considering the state he's been in the last few days, it's reasonable that he wouldn't feel well, right, Doctor? I think we should give him the benefit of the doubt, and let him try again tomorrow."

Once again, Roy found himself shocked into silence.

He stared blankly, gaze moving nervously between the nurse and back to the doctor… who seemed just as taken aback as Roy was. This really wasn't a plan between them. This really wasn't some sort of scheme to catch him unawares and- and do _whatever_ to him. This really was just her… speaking up for him? But why? Why would she- and after he'd hurt her?

 _Just like you hurt Fullmetal?_

 _And Riza Hawkeye?_

 _And…_

Justin looked between the two of them again, eyes still narrowed, head tilted to the side as if he was just as confused as Roy was. The silence persisted for several moments, Roy just not daring to speak, silently praying for the excuse to be accepted, while Susan stayed standing next to him, obviously uncomfortable and about to back down any second now… but she wasn't. She stood her ground, in what he could only interpret as her sticking her neck out- for him.

 _After_ he had hurt her.

It didn't make any sense.

And-

Roy was too far down to need it to.

All he needed was to get out of here.

The silence persisted one moment longer, the doctor still looking between the two of them and radiating an aura of suspicion so thick it was palpable, poisonous. "…All right," he said at last, voice guarded, gaze still moving between them before it landed heavily on Roy; he barely stopped himself from wincing. "I'll let you take a day to rest, and… feel better. I'll see you again tomorrow, Roy." He paused again, eyes narrowing. "And I hope you won't make me regret this gesture of good faith."

It was a warning that would've made Roy a lot more apprehensive, if he hadn't been planning to get the hell out of here tonight.

 _And even if I don't, Fullmetal'll be able to teach me how to do this. I'll be able to get past tomorrow, at least- one way or another._

"Th-thank you, Doctor," Susan said shakily; for all her talk, she was obviously just as shaken as he was. But she at least wasted no time in approaching behind him again, hand going to his shoulder as she started to make him stand. "Come on, Roy-" And he would've been more annoyed at still being ordered around like this, but at this point, all he wanted was to get the hell out of that room.

He let her get him to his feet and lead him away, and he did it by reminding himself of Ed, and nothing else.

After all, if what he'd remembered in that room was… true…

He wasn't doing this for himself. He didn't deserve it.

But Ed didn't deserve to be treated like this, and he was going to do something to stop it.

He was out of that room and down the hallway before he'd had the time to even grasp what was going on, his legs still unsteady and head still swimming. He would've protested the hand on his elbow otherwise, but was pretty sure that was what was responsible for him still being on his feet, and whatever got him away from there fastest, the better. He let her lead him down the hallway, legs still shaking, watching dazedly as the first door was opened and Susan shakily guided him on down another.

"…th-thank you," he mumbled dizzily, still staring at her. "You didn't have to… do that for me."

The nurse hesitated, but still did not look at him. She opened her mouth for a moment, clearly about to speak- but then simply shut it. She was clearly torn and uncertain, and, Roy realized, honestly didn't know what to say.

Roy hesitated, too, averting his gaze. "…I really didn't mean to, um- hurt you." He thought again of the bruises on her face, then the scratches all over his arms. "I…" _don't even remember doing it._ "It was an accident."

Susan, again, didn't say anything. But her pace slowed down a little, and some of that frantic, nervous uncertainty in her eyes faded- and Roy, once again, found himself questioning whose side that woman was really on.

"Thank you," she said at last, gaze still averted, voice still low. Her hand remained on his elbow as she unlocked another door- the _last_ door, he realized, when it opened and he was finally back in the familiar ward- and the indecision stayed on her face for a heartbeat, eyes uncertain…

And then, it was gone. "Thank you," she said again, this time voice rushed, and she let go of his arm almost as if she'd been burned. She wouldn't look at him as she turned away in an obvious hurry, and for once Roy didn't even flinch when the door swung shut and he heard it lock automatically behind her.

He hesitated for a moment, just staring blankly at the door. Clearly, _something_ was going on. Something that worried him. Something that he knew couldn't mean anything good- because _nothing_ that went on here meant anything good for either him or Ed.

His stomach squirmed again, cold fingers clenching.

And then, Roy just shook his head at himself, and closed his eyes.

Whatever was going on didn't matter in the slightest, because he was not going to be sticking around to find out.

Roy turned himself back around, coughing shakily as he tugged on his hospital shirt, trying to straighten it and look more put together. He was sure he failed completely, but that didn't matter now as he looked around the room, eyes trailing over the empty couch and the stained walls and the barred window. No one.

"Fullmetal?" he called softly, leaning precariously against the wall and using it to help himself along, searching, searching. His stomach continued to lurch threateningly, reminding him that the only thing he really wanted to be doing was lying down and turning his mind off to the rest of the world. "Hey, Fullmetal?"

Still, no answer. He headed off unsteadily, moving towards their rooms. Fullmetal's was first, and he gently knocked before nudging the door open, calling his name once again.

…Nothing?

Roy stared, brow furrowing as he took in the deserted space. It looked like it always did; bed freshly used with rumpled blankets, the chair they'd lugged in there so they'd both have room to sit down- he could even see a tiny corner of the papers they'd shoved under the mattress to keep hidden from the nurses, the papers bearing the drawings of the tattoos and other notes.

But no Ed.

Roy bit his lip anxiously, standing uncertainly in the door. Where was he? He couldn't be gone for treatment; he'd just come from there, they would've passed in the hallway. But it looked as if he'd just recently been here, didn't it?

Where… where was he?

He wasn't here.

Why wasn't he here?

"…Fullmetal?" he called hopelessly again, as if the boy was hiding underneath the bed and would just pop out at any moment. "Hey, Fullmetal? Y-you- are you here?" He hesitated again, insides squirming violently, stomach lurching threateningly.

Why wasn't he here?

After a moment, Roy at last stumbled back, shaking his head to himself, trying to convince himself to stay calm. It didn't matter, right? So Ed wasn't right in front of him; he had other places to check! "Fullmetal?" he called again, letting the door swing shut even as his heart started to squeeze its way anxiously into his throat. Roy turned back down the hallway, this time headed towards the next closest room- his own. Left unoccupied for he didn't even know however many days. "Hey, Fullmetal, are you-" He pushed, nudging the door open hopefully.

Roy stopped.

His heart swelled, breathless relief expanding so greatly in his chest his ribs almost cracked.

Fullmetal!

Roy had to do a double take, ensure he was actually in _his_ room, but- yes, he was. He recognized that disgusting stain on the ceiling, from however many nights he'd been restrained to the bed, drugged, and left with nothing to do but stare at it and try to ignore the screams in his own head. And there, too, in his room, was Fullmetal.

Lying in _his_ bed, half-curled on his side, back to him, half-buried under the blanket, hugging Roy's pillow his stomach, and fast asleep.

Roy faltered in the doorway again. This time, it was to allow himself a smile so broad, it hurt his cheeks.

Carefully, he let the door shut again, this time making sure to muffle it so it was all but silent. Then he crept towards the bed, as silent as he could manage, to rest his hands over the metal railing and look down at him.

This time, his heart stopped.

His face was bruised.

Ed's face was- was bruised.

Fading black and blue, all along the left side of his face, not as if he'd been struck but closer to him taking a hard fall, like he'd been pushed to the floor and broken it with his face. And it seemed to be several days old, too. Not the bright red of a blow from a few hours ago, not the swelling of a blow from something just the day before, but like it was...

Like it was several days old...

Roy's stomach dropped, and the euphoria of finding him safe twisted straight into cold, poisonous guilt.

Oh, god.

He'd-

He'd-

 _He'd hit Ed._

Roy sank tremulously onto the edge of the bed, insides lurching in horror.

It was undeniable. There was no other explanation; none whatsoever. He'd love to blame the hospital, but they had never _once_ so blatantly physically abused either one of them like this, never once actually hit them- but Roy h _ad._ He'd hurt that nurse, and he'd hurt himself. He'd been truly mad in whatever those drugs had done to him; he'd scratched himself all to hell, he'd punched and actually _bit_ that nurse-

And now, he'd apparently hurt Ed, too.

Roy swallowed weakly, nausea and self-disgust churning inside him, the guilt chaining his sore, scratched limbs down like iron manacles. He'd done this. He'd actually- actually _hit_ Ed. He'd bruised him all over his face. First he'd somehow taken his limbs from him- _but that wasn't enough for you, was it, Roy; then you had to actually hit him in the face!_

 _You worthless piece of shit, you murderer, you- just LOOK AT HIM!_

 _You did this to him, Roy!_

He was the reason Ed was like this at all. _He_ had physically _hurt_ Ed. He said he cared about him, but then he went and treated him like this- _he_ was the reason Ed was here like this at all, curled up in his bed and clutching a pillow like it was the only anchor he had, he was the reason Ed was-

...was in _his_ bed.

Ed, after everything that had happened... was still here.

Waiting for him.

Roy swallowed uncomfortably again, lowering his hands back down to his lap.

Ed was here. Ed knew what had happened, and evidently, did not care.

Ed still trusted him.

Of course, he didn't know the whole truth... Ed didn't know who Roy was... what kind of a _monster_ he really was. He didn't know how his limbs had... what Roy had _done_ to him...

But all that was important _right now,_ in this hospital, was that Ed trusted him, no matter the horrible things he'd done.

Once they were out of here, maybe that would change. Once they were out of here, maybe Roy would have to _make it_ change for Ed's own good; tell him everything and get Ed to see him for the murderer that he was and get away from him before he hurt him again- but right here, right now?

Ed was all that he had, and he was all that Ed had.

Right here, right now, breaking out of this hospital was all that had to matter. And if Roy had to swallow his horrified guilt to stand side by side with Ed to get him to safety, then so be it.

He'd hate himself for this later.

Right now, however, there wasn't time for that.

And so Roy forced his gaze away from those horrifying, nauseating bruises, and he forced his gaze away from the empty spaces where his arm and leg were supposed to be, and he just leaned over him and whispered, "Hey." He carefully sunk a little more down on the hospital bed, both for the sake of his unsteady legs and just to be a little closer to him. "Hey, Fullmetal? Are you awake?"

He clearly hadn't been before, but the words stirred him a little, the small form fidgeting, his face creasing as he muttered something under his breath. Roy almost faltered as he reached for him, observing the deep shadows under his eyes and the ingrained stress that hadn't been there before. He wasn't sure what to blame it on, exactly, and knew part of him just wanted to let the kid sleep- but they were on a tight schedule, here. He'd be able to let Ed rest once they were out of here. Now, however, they needed to get moving.

So, he forced himself to lean forward, gently resting a hand on his shoulder and simply refusing to let himself feel the whiplash of guilt when Ed shifted again, letting him see the empty space where his right arm ought to be. "Fullmetal," he said again, this time firmer, with an undercurrent of steel.

There was another moment of awkward silence.

Then, sleepily, obviously guardedly, Ed cracked his eyes open to squint up at him.

Yet another moment of awkward silence.

Then all hell broke loose.

"You bastard! You bastard! You _bastard!_ You- you-" Ed was up and swinging in an instant, fist pounding on his shoulder as he kicked and fought with the blankets, trying to kick at him too. "You _JERK!_ Where the hell were you; what'd you do?! You stupid _bastard! YOU BASTARD!_ You disappeared, you, you were _gone,_ I thought I'd never- _you bastard, you bastard, you BASTARD!"_

A laugh ripped its way out of his throat as the flailing little tornado sent him down onto his back, punches slamming into him as fingernails dragged as his already torn skin and insults continued to be shouted at his face. "F-Fullmetal, stop," he gasped, trying not stop his smile from splitting his face in two, "come on, my shoulders already hurt, Fullmetal-" but he was laughing too hard to keep it up, and whenever hard punch knocked the rest of the wind out of him he just gave up, and opted to just let Ed tire himself out.

" _You smug jerk!"_ he was yelling, shoving him down into the mattress. "How could you?! i _told you_ what you were doing was stupid, didn't I, didn't I, but you didn't fucking listen, you-" He was angry, livid, obviously, eyes and hair wild as he punched at his arm again, and maybe the reason Roy couldn't stop laughing was because he was so relieved he'd lost it, a little, because watching Ed now it wasn't _funny_ to see what his absence had done to him, but- oh, hell-

"Stop _laughing_ , or I'll- _I'll fucking kill you, you jerk! Stop laughing!"_ Ed whaled on his shoulder one last time before slumping at last, breathing hard and red-faced, holding himself up only with hand braced against his arm. He looked as if he couldn't decide whether to keep on screaming at him or welcome him back.

Roy at last made the choice for him, wrapping his least sore arm around his shoulders and pulling him gently to his side, swallowing his own grunt/grin as it earned a rough fist to his ribs. "I missed you, too," he said back quietly, resting a careful hand in his hair to make sure not to dare aggravate any of the potential bruises.

Ed didn't say anything for several moments- but was no longer trying to punch him out of the hug, and that, in and of itself, spoke all the volumes he needed. Ed just stayed against him, breathing hard, hand in a fist and face pressed into his side, those horrible bruises hidden... and as much of a reassurance as Roy could've ever asked for.

"You are such an _ass,"_ Ed finally growled at him, but the hostility simply wasn't there anymore, and instead there was so much relief pressed into the insult it almost couldn't contain it all.

Roy couldn't help himself; he laughed again, a weak, exhausted noise as he finally started to let go of his own tension and panic, trembling as he reached a hand up to teasingly ruffle his hair. It earned him another half-hearted blow, and he loved it. "I know. It's great, isn't it?" he chuckled, smiling down at him, and this time counted himself lucky the comment didn't get Ed socking him in the face.

The kid slumped a little more, his unsteady breaths starting to even out a little as he leaned against him, trembling just like Roy was. He still wasn't looking at him, long hair still hiding his eyes, and for a moment, Roy was able to just let his face fall and accept the real vulnerability and loneliness behind that reaction.

This was why he'd come back.

This was what was important.

This was really all that he had... and damn him to hell, but no matter his past- no matter how he'd ended up here- no matter what this hospital was trying to do to him or how much Roy might deserve it... he'd come back because he was the one person here who really cared about Ed. He was the only person here who would keep him safe, and he was the best chance Ed had of getting out of here and finding his Al.

This was all he had. This child next to him, trembling under his arms, and- and, yes, this child that was bruised _because of him..._ he was all he had. And, he was worth it.

He'd do anything to get Ed out of here, even if it meant sacrificing himself.


	11. Chapter 11

Thank you all so much for reviewing!

Quick announcement- I'm going on a hiatus until April 2nd. There's a con in town that I'm going to which (as miniskirt Roy! Woo!), of course, lands right on one of the update days, and I'm a little behind on fixing up upcoming chapters anyway, so I just decided to take a week off at this point and hopefully come back strong after everything calms down. Next update will come next Tuesday, April 2nd! Sorry for the hiatus, and I'll see you then!

* * *

This time, their reunion turned hug only lasted for several moments, and once again, this time, it was Ed's fault. Roy felt Ed, still leaning against his side, Roy's arm clutched around his shoulders, start to tug at his wrist. Roy kept silent but looked down in mild surprise, watching as Ed pulled his arm down to lie in his lap, sure fingers prodding at it, turning it over, brushing against the healing scratches.

At first, those marks were what he thought the kid was after, and he swallowed, trying to think of a response that didn't paint him as crazy. "I, um… those are…"

Then, he stopped.

Ed wasn't looking at the scratches. He was looking deeper than that- to the faint red impression marks on his arm, the strikingly unique patterns from how he'd been bound.

The same marks, Roy now remembered, that Ed had had.

"…Oh," Ed said after several moments, his fingers shaking over a particularly red mark around his wrist. "They… did it to you, too."

Roy winced.

"…Yeah," he said at length. Well, it wasn't as if he could hide it now. He swallowed dryly, suddenly intensely glad Ed had no idea about the gag and would never find out, then just found himself awkwardly trying to defend the hospital; make it out to not be as bad as it seemed- as he knew Ed was starting to think. "To be fair, I don't think they really had a choice, in my case. I wasn't exactly... willing to listen to... to reason." He eyed the bruises on Ed's face again, stomach somersaulting.

His fault. It was _his fault._

He'd _hurt Ed._

But Ed just winced, too, still not looking at him, still not seeming to even care about the marks on his face.. "I'm sorry," he muttered, hunching his shoulders. "I- I should've told you. So you'd… like you said,so you'd b-be- prepared. I-"

"Shut up, will you," Roy sighed. He ruffled his hair again for the express purpose of annoying him, trying to get him to shake off some of the obvious guilt; it worked, but only partway, and Roy sighed again. "It's over with now, and I survived it, didn't I?" He held off that Ed had obviously had it way worse than he had, being in that room for _weeks_ and unlike Roy actually hadn't fucking deserved it- and what was more, being _coherent_ the whole time- somehow, he figured that wouldn't go far towards cheering him up. "I'm fine now. So you've got no reason to not be fine, either."

Ed muttered something under his breath, voice thick, and he ducked his head again, not letting Roy see as he lifted his hand up to rub at his face for a moment. "You're such a _bastard,"_ he muttered out at last, shoulders still hunched- but this time, Roy could hear the weak smile on his voice, and he knew he'd gotten through to him.

"Guilty as charged," he sighed, beaming, and reached a hand up to ruffle his hair again.

This time Ed batted at his wrist, hissing, " _Next time I bite that hand OFF, bastard!"_ and Roy couldn't help another weak smile, letting the arm fall back down to his side and leaving the other around his shoulders.

This. _This,_ was what he had come back for.

After several moments of peaceful silence, it somehow finally got through to him how cold the figure under his arms was. Not so chilled he had to be concerned, but cold enough, and Roy swallowed a momentary thrum of protective anger, arm tightening reflexively around his shoulders. "They did it to you again," he said quietly, some of the relief fading from his voice to be eaten by anger instead. He knew he didn't have to specify for Ed to know he meant the ice bath. He reached down, still frowning, to grab the still warm blanket and wrap it around the both of them, pressing it around Ed's shoulders tightly as the kid gave a distracted nod, still averting his eyes.

"They do a hell of a lot worse here, you know," he pointed out quietly, picking at some stray thread on his clothes with an absentminded shrug.

Roy gritted his teeth, fingers tightening again, and had to fight back another protective snap of _well, they SHOULDN'T._

 _Not to Fullmetal, anyway…_

 _He doesn't deserve it._

 _You can hardly same the say for yourself, can you, Roy?_

But that didn't matter now, did it? Because Roy's intention was to get Ed out of here before they could ever do any of that to him again.

"Listen," he started after several moments, making to push him out to be held at arm's length so they could look at each other. "Fullmetal. Tonight, we-"

"Why'd you do that, bastard?" he asked, running over the words without a second thought. Finally, for the first time, Fullmetal's fierce eyes actually lifted to meet his as he pushed at the arm around his shoulders, moving back to glare at him on his own. "Why'd you freak out like that?"

"…I don't know what you're refer-"

"When I did what you did. When I skipped those pills." Ed's eyes faded a little, darkening with memory, but they still held his own. "I- look, I won't lie and say it was _fun,_ but it wasn't… I knew where I was. I could control myself. I was okay. You…" He hesitated, biting his lip quietly as if he was just unable to help himself. "You weren't."

And for the first time, Roy had nothing to say back to him.

His mouth, still sore from the gag and sickening from the all the drugs, went dry, and he suddenly found himself licking his lips, throat aching as he looked away. "I… don't know," he said stiffly, which was the most blunt and honest truth he could give; he didn't know why the drugs had affected him differently than Ed, and didn't really care, either.

But he knew that wasn't really what Ed was asking him.

They both knew it.

After a few awkward, uncomfortable moments passed in dead silence, Ed cleared his throat, nudging at his hand again. "What you remembered," he started hesitantly, then stopped. He shifted awkwardly on the bed again. "… _Whatever_ it was. I wouldn't put much stock in it. I mean, it was a drug-fueled hallucination, bastard- first and foremost, that's what it is. Yeah, sure, there may've been some bits of truth in there, but there's probably lots more exaggerations and lies, so there's no point in moping about it now." Edl paused again, frowning at him. "That's the whole reason I told you not to do this in the first place."

And again, Roy just looked away.

Part of him knew that what Ed was saying had to be true. Everything he'd seen, in that padded room- it all carried the ring of truth to it, but underneath that truth- well, he understood it couldn't _all_ be real. Not unless Riza Hawkeye had followed him throughout his entire life as a creepy ghost and whispered _why?_ to him from every corner of every room.

But he'd remembered enough that was true.

He knew enough.

And Roy hesitated as he glanced at the confident form in front of him again, the fierce, good-hearted boy who trusted him completely and was willing to do anything for him here. Who was now _bruised_ because of him. He thought of what he remembered now. Of his blood-spattered, screaming face. Of him sitting in a wheelchair, limbs freshly lost.

Of what it meant that _Roy_ had been there to see him like that.

Of how likely it was that _he_ had been the one to do those things to him.

He looked at Ed, and he opened his mouth, the words already collecting on his tongue. The admissions of guilt. The apologies. The _I don't know WHAT I did to you, but I know I'm the reason you don't have your arm and your leg, and I'm sorry._ The admittances of everything that he'd done wrong, and the horrifically inadequate apologies that could never, _ever,_ make up for what he'd done. It all grew in his throat and sat there on his tongue and he opened his mouth to say it all to the innocent child he'd never done anything for but hurt.

None of it came out.

He couldn't get out _any_ of it.

And at last, Roy just looked away again, fists clenching in his lap, and buried the guilt back inside his heart.

"…I don't think I'm a good person, Fullmetal," he said at last. It was far, far from the worst of what he could've said. It was so far from it it was barely the truth at all. "I really don't."

But he knew he had to admit _something_ to that boy now, at least.

And it was still the truth.

There was another moment of uncertain silence.

"Well," Ed said bluntly back. "I think you're wrong. And stupid."

Roy winced again, shutting his eyes as a violent shudder shook through him from head to toe. His vision clouded with the heat and screams of a nation, and the burned flesh of the woman he'd-…

 _I think I loved her._

 _And I burned her._

"Fullmetal… I don't think…" He sighed, breaking off to rub his hand over his face, trying not to look at the marks lining both his arms. "I'm telling the truth. I _don't_ think I'm a good person. And- I don't think alchemy is good, either." He made an effort to meet his eyes again, trying to hold his gaze, trying to make him believe it. "I know what you said, how you feel good, when you do it- and I know you don't really have a choice, while you're here, I understand you're just doing what you have to to survive, but... I don't think it's good. And I don't think you should be doing it when we get out of here."

Ed's eyes widened incredulously, the kid leaning back from him to frown in disbelief. "What are you babbling about now? Alchemy's great! I mean, not what they're making us do with it, but- but you know what I mean!"

All Roy could see, though, was the fires, as he burned a country to the ground.

And his array that had done it.

All Roy could see was the scratches and bruises he'd hit into Susan and _Ed._

"…I'm just saying what I think," he finished quietly, averting his eyes again. "Take it how you will."

Ed paused again, not cutting him off this time, actually taking him seriously. He was still for a few moments, looking away from him as well as he sobered, smile slipping into a more serious grimace. "I think alchemy's not good or bad, really. It's like everything else- it's just a tool. It can do good things or bad things… it just depends on who's using it." He gave him a slight grin, clearly one meant to reassure him as he reached a hand out, nudging at him again. "So yeah, it probably seems bad using it here, for these assholes- but there's nothing inherently wrong with it. I bet we're both pretty kickass with it, when we get to use it for however we actually want to."

It took Roy several moments to even realize where Ed was coming from with this; when he finally did, he felt even worse than before.

Ed thought he'd just used his alchemy to make gold here, for Justin. That was what he thought he was talking about. To Ed, _that_ was there this sudden new reasoning had come from.

He didn't know… had no idea…

 _He doesn't know what you are._

Roy swallowed thickly, his mouth tasting bitter and like poison, and squeezed his eyes shut again.

 _He doesn't know what you've done._

It was painfully quiet for several long moments, Roy unable to get another word past the thick guilt swimming in his stomach, Ed obviously aware something was going on but not sure how best to intervene. At last, Ed gave him a harsh poke to his chest, prodding at him so hard Roy _had_ to look at him again, and was met with steady, unwavering eyes and a ready grin. "Well, I think you're wrong. And stupid. Stupidly wrong, bastard. And, you know, this conversation is pointless regardless- it doesn't really matter if you're wrong or not, because right now, you're pretty much all that I've got. So I'd like it if you didn't make me feel like I was depending on a screw-up, thanks." And he flashed another fierce, bold grin, one that felt miles too innocent and young to ever touch his black heart, but-

It did, somehow.

Even though he didn't believe him.

Even though he was pretty sure he was much, much worse than a screw-up…

Somehow, it did.

It felt a little bit like a lie, when Roy managed to pull together a weak grin back at him. But it was necessary- because Ed was right.

They were all each other had, right now.

And right now, they had something they had to do.

"Well," he said, clearing his throat, steadying his still slightly thick voice. "On that note- you want to try breaking out of this place?" He paused, offering him a crooked smile again. "Tonight?"

Ed's face lit up like a lightbulb, and for a moment, was almost too small to contain his smile.

"Thought you'd never ask."

* * *

There were things to arrange. Ripping up the sheets of notes Ed had been collecting, trying to erase any sign that their rooms had ever been occupied by anybody other than two drugged out hospital patients, scouting out the rest of the ward, making completely sure the route they planned to take that night was still clear and that they were both sure on the plan. And then, of course, was the interminable _waiting,_ until actual nightfall- which was pretty bad, when neither of them could sit still-

But it was bearable, because at last, _they'd be getting out of here._

"You know, for what it's worth?" Ed asked, sitting back in his room waiting for the hours to pass, carefully shredding one of his sketches of the tattoos. "What we were talking about, trying to find their patient files- I actually went and did it, when you, um… freaked out, earlier. I got em."

Roy stopped in his own task, his eyes widening. "You did _what?"_

Ed shrugged, looking almost infuriatingly proud of himself. "Yeah. Everybody was focused on you, and I was too, at first- but then I figured, there was no time better than the present, wasn't it?" He smirked, neatly ripping up another one of the pieces into even smaller shreds. "I snuck off and managed to find our patient files. Bastard- we're totally fucking right. About _everything._ There wasn't any mention of schizophrenia, treatments- none of that shit. They called us fucking test subjects, and there was this one thing- _protocols to keep subjects docile and productive were working-_ no part of it read like an actual, legit patient file. We're totally fucking right. These people are _psycho."_

Roy swallowed a laugh in his throat, rolling his eyes. "You are too smart for your own good, I think," he said, neatly ripping up his own sheet of notes to discard of. He grimaced after a moment, glancing back up at him. "So, manage to find anything actually useful in this little jaunt of yours? Did the files give you something helpful, like… I don't know, a home address, or…?"

Ed scowled angrily, and his next rip was so fast the papers almost hit the floor. "Well _excuse fucking me._ I've gotta do everything around here, apparently? Can't help yourself? Need little old me to do it all for you, now?"

"Wait- wait." Roy leaned forward, holding his gaze with the most serious look that he could muster, fighting his smile back even though it took just about all of his strength. "Wait, Fullmetal, this- wow. I can't believe it… have you actually admitted it, now? Have you finally accepted it?"

Ed stared at him like he'd just sprouted a second head. "Accepted _what_ , you asshole?"

"Your reality." He swallowed, trying to keep his voice steady, then just gave up as a tiny, proud smirk slipped through. "Of being little."

It took several moments for Ed to get it.

When he finally did, the slow, furious reddening of his face, the way his eyes widened, and his mouth started to open to initiate the loudest rant of his life, was easily the best thing Roy had seen all week.

" _I can't believe I ever fucking missed you YOU STUPID BASTARD SON OF A-"_

The door to his room slammed open.

Laughter was still caught in Roy's chest, a smile on his face and hands shaking with suppressed mirth. He crumpled the sheets still in his hands on instinct alone, just too shaken and exhausted and relieved to _be_ terrified anymore as he started to turn back around to face it; Ed's rant had been stopped, but the kid was still red-faced and furious as he turned around, fist clenched, as they both shifted to face the intruder.

For a few moments, Roy was still too out of it for him to really even grasp what was going on. It wasn't one of the nurses, which made this a first; they'd never seen anyone other than Ann or Susan in their tiny locked ward. It was Justin, and some strangers behind him. Which was completely unexpected and out of nowhere- but after however many weeks or months they'd spent here, never given the freedom to do anything but just accept what was happening to them, he'd lost the ability to really be horrified or stricken anymore. It took him a few seconds to manage to smother the grin from his face, trying to go for their usual drugged, sedated facade, listening as Ed did the same…

And Justin just stood in the doorway, and impassively looked at them.

"Well," the doctor said at last, folding his arms. "Here we are."

Roy paused, glancing between him and Ed- not surprised to find the kid just as out of it as he was. So, how were they supposed to respond to that…?

"Here you two are. I'm glad you're together, it'll save some time- although… somehow? I'm not very surprised."

Roy again exchanged an uncertain glance with Ed. Again, he wasn't surprised to see that he obviously had no clue what was going. Which was good, because Roy didn't, either.

"Allow me to explain," he said coldly, impassive glare traveling between the two of them with absolutely _none_ of warmth or caring that had been there before. Sure, Roy had never believed it for a second, but at least the facade had been there- but now…

There was nothing there but cold dislike, and a steadily growing warning.

"I met Roy earlier today, Edward," Justin said, gesturing at him. "And something was odd about him, but I couldn't really put my finger on it at first. He seemed perfectly normal, after all. Acted just like you." He took several small steps into the room, and the two men behind him followed.

They were dressed like hospital staff, but somehow, Roy got the feeling that they weren't nurses.

He got the feeling they weren't here to help at all.

Roy exchanged another nervous look with Ed, heart squeezing anxiously, and looked back to Justin. Slowly, tremulously, he started to get to his feet; he heard the kid do the same, even as Roy held his arm out just a little and moved to just stand in front of him.

Justin did not appear impressed.

At all.

"It wasn't until after you'd begged your way into getting me to let you leave, _Roy,"_ he went on coldly, "that I realized. You'd been acting just like Edward here- acting as if you'd been sedated." He took one more step forward, uncrossing his arms for one to hand fall down to his pocket- and the men behind him, advancing still. His frown deepened.

"Which I found especially odd, because I've been following your treatment, Roy, and happen to know that you hadn't been given any sedatives in four days."

Roy blinked.

Justin continued to glare.

And then, his heart dropped.

… _oh… shit…_

"Considering just how _well_ your behavior matched Edward's, Roy," he went on, a small, almost nasty smile starting to grow, "I wondered just how best to explain it. Seeing as, well- Edward's been on sedatives every time I've met him. And you weren't." He tilted his head, withdrawing his hand from his pocket, and that nasty smile grew. "Supposedly, anyway."

And he held out his hand.

Roy's heart dropped again.

"Care to explain this?" Justin asked coldly, rolling the dozen or so small white capsules around his palm. "These, and the four dozen more that I found where they came from?"

The dozen or so skipped sedatives that they'd both been hiding under the couch cushions ever since they'd come here.

* * *

 _A/N: see you April 2nd!_

 _HHhaaaaahaHhhHHHHAAAAaaaa  
_


	12. Chapter 12

Thank you all so much for reviewing! Now, I'm back! :D And, of course, I'm very sorry for lying about my return date- I said April 2nd because apparently, I can not read a calendar. My update schedule is still Tuesday/Friday. Thanks to YAJJ for pointing out the mistake to me ;(

To those of you who wanted to see pics of me as miniskirt Roy, I uploaded my con pics to ranowa-fanart-dump on tumblr. I've got one of me with a small Ed, Little Kuriboh, ProZD, and Vic Mignogna (the voice of Ed!). Look away!

And now- enjoy!

* * *

Somehow, Ed wasn't even very surprised when he ended up stuck back in the padded cell with the straitjacket.

He'd known the instant those pseudo nurses had grabbed at him that this was different than ever before. Ann and Susan, as much as he'd hated them, had still treated him like a patient; they'd never gotten openly angry with him or handled him rougher than he'd forced them too- but those people who had approached him and Roy with Justin had been another matter entirely.

They'd treated him like an unruly, misbehaving prisoner. Hadn't even bothered drugging him first, or even making the slightest attempt to pretend like the treatment was for his own good any longer.

It seemed, that in realizing he and Roy weren't treating this as a hospitalization but a prison, Justin had decided to stop pretending it was anything but the latter, too.

And to Roy, too; Roy had gotten the exact same treatment as him. Those men Justin had brought with him had been twice their size and apparently _not_ spent the last few months of their lives being drugged and not much else; he and Roy had both been disabled in a matter of moments and forced back down this cursed hallway with barely a bruise for their efforts, so quickly it was _pathetic._

The last thing Ed had seen before being shoved back into the nightmare cell was Roy, desperately trying to throw one last punch as he was pushed into his own.

He didn't know how long ago that had been. It could've been an hour. It could've been days.

Ed _didn't fucking know,_ because he'd been left alone here ever since, fighting the straps on the jacket and frantically throwing himself at the locked door, shouting Roy's name as loud as he could get it out.

He hoped it was the soundproofing of the walls, that explained why he'd never once heard anything back.

He _hoped_ it was that.

But Ed had kept himself ready and waiting, because that was exactly _all_ he was capable of doing, and as panicked as he'd been when they'd thrown him in here- it wasn't as bad. Not like before. It _wasn't._ Because before, he'd been drugged, and shaken and terrified and _humiliated_ because he'd known he'd been stuck in this white room because somebody believed he deserved it. That they'd looked down at him and thought pitiably that he was insane, and pushed him in this straitjacket and locked the door and thrown the key away because he'd deserved it-

But Justin wasn't trying to pretend that anymore.

He and Roy were fucking sane, and they'd been put in these tiny rooms to be stopped from breaking out. That was it. No other damn reason, and that- he could _fight_ that.

That was a million times easier for Ed to face than the way it had been before.

So he did try and fight it. He pushed and fought against the straitjacket no matter how useless it was; he threw himself at the locked door no matter how useless _that_ was, and he screamed Roy's name until he'd screamed himself hoarse and nothing but his own gasps answered him. He fought until he was too exhausted to anything but sit there gasping on the floor and even then kept his guard up, refusing to allow himself to focus on padded walls closing in around him or the straps digging into his arm or the oppressive silence that would give way to panic the second he let it.

He couldn't let himself realize any of that, because he could still fight his way out of here and back to Roy again.

He had to.

He- he just _had_ to!

So Ed kept himself ready, forcing himself to ignore the reality of _this room_ and _this straitjacket_ \- until the door finally opened, and Justin stepped straight back inside.

Ed was ready and waiting for him the instant the piece of shit appeared. He could hear other guards in the hall even if Justin was the only one in sight and knew making a break for it wasn't an option- not now, not _yet-_ but he jerked himself up to sit as straight and dignified as he could against the far wall, balanced on his leg so he could lunge away at the slightest provocation and fist, even bound to his chest and useless, clenched. He was being held prisoner here, maybe, but was _not_ a fucking lunatic or helpless hospital patient, and he was sure as hell not going to take this lying down like he was. He was _done_ letting these people treat him like he was crazy or a pathetic child.

"Finally decided what you're doing to do with us, huh?" he spat viciously, squirming against the wall. "Or just got lonely and decided you wanted to chat, asshole?!" He squirmed again, fighting the restraints for freedom he already knew he wasn't going to get.

Justin sighed, massaging his at the bridge of his nose with two fingers, and looked so incredibly annoyed Ed found himself bracing for a blow.

But it didn't come, though he was pretty sure Justin wanted it to. The doctor, or whatever he really was, did not move to hit him; did not even advance on him. He just stood there in the doorway, a pained grimace etched into his face- the sort of look that said he thought Ed was miles below him, and that this display of defiance was worth no more to him than dirt on the bottom of his shoe.

It made Ed's blood boil, and the angry snarl on his face grew just a little more.

"You really ought to be more polite," Justin murmured sourly, voice heavy with annoyance. "You don't have all that much working for you right now, and if you keep on trying to annoy me, you're going to lose what very little favor you have."

"Oh, yeah, because I've got _sooo much_ going for me now, don't I?! Yeah, I think I'll take my chances, asshole." He pulled even further away and squirmed in the restraints again, desperately fighting to yank his arm free to fight back. Even with everything taken into account, it still wasn't as bad, as humiliating, as the last time he'd been shoved in here- not now, that he had proof he wasn't fucking crazy. Not now, that he _knew_ he didn't deserve this.

Not now that he knew what that so-called doctor really was.

Justin sighed again, pinching his forehead, and looked as if he really, _really_ wanted to hit him.

But he didn't make a move- not yet. Ed was positive it was not _yet._ Instead, not-doctor psycho moved forward again, folding his arms in aggravation as he leaned against the opposite wall, frowning down at him as if he was an irritating bug just waiting to be squashed. "Let me blunt, here," he started, and with a great sigh, as if he'd been waiting for this opportunity for quite some time. "You obviously think you've figured out some of what's going on here. And, to be honest, I've been getting pretty tired of this charade for a while now, and don't really want to go through the effort of holding it up now- so, yes, Edward. You're right. None of this is legitimate. All of this is for my benefit. Any more questions, or can we move on now?"

"Yeah, that's fucking _right_ none of this is legitimate, you son of a… um…"

Ed blinked, numb voice trailing off into nothing. He blinked again, staring up at the man in dawning disbelief.

 _Um… oh._

 _That was… unexpected…_

"Well… uh…" he went on, blinking fuzzily again. He shifted in the annoyingly humiliating restraints, fighting to squirm himself into a more dignified position once again. "So- yeah. Good. Now we've got that straightened out- yeah, you- …so, you gonna let us go now, then?"

Justin smirked coldly. "No."

…

"B-but… you just said-"

"Yes, and I should think it's obvious I'm not really all that hung up on what you think about all of this, Edward. I know what I said. And now, I'm saying this: you're going to stay here, doing whatever I ask from you, and you're not going to cause any more trouble while you're doing it, because I think I've already proven that I _can_ and _will_ force your hand." He paused, eyeing the straitjacket and padded cell around them- then smiled coldly again. "If you do it well enough, Edward? Maybe I'll actually let you out of here when I'm done."

Ed glared hotly at him, pushing his foot against the floor again to start to worm himself upright, struggling to stand and not make a fool of himself at the same time. "You- _you're_ the fucking insane one if you think I'm doing _anything_ for you now! Do it yourself, you psycho, because I'm not going to! You can't fucking make me; threaten me all you like, it's not going to work! I won't do it, I won't, I won't!"

He wouldn't fucking do it now, and that was just the end of it. It was different than before; now, when everything had been confirmed, when he knew how wrong all of this was- he wouldn't do it now. Not now that he _knew_ he and Roy were being held prisoner here and that none of this hospital was real. It was wrong, he knew it was wrong, he'd known it all along- and he'd been through far too much to back down now.

He wasn't.

He _couldn't._

Once again, however, Justin didn't very surprised- or impressed- by the most stubborn stand Ed could put down from where he sat bound and helpless on the padded floor.

"Right," the not-doctor sighed, frowning at him darkly, almost dangerously- and definitely dismissively. He moved a few step forwards but did not drop down to be on his level, and the power differential from the fact he was being loomed over was obviously not an accident. "And, like I said before, I don't really want to waste my time trying to manipulate and force your hand this time. Let me put it this way: for every time you disobey me? I will cut off one of Roy's limbs." He paused for a moment, that same deadly, almost nasty smile from before, and when he leaned forward again, his eyes were all but ice cold. "We are in a hospital, you know. There is a _whole lot_ that I can do to him, and still manage to keep him alive during. And I really have no patience left for either of you at this point, Edward, so if you ask me to prove my point, then I really would only be too willing."

And for the second time in the past two minutes, Ed was left speechless.

Once again, it wasn't for a good reason.

He stared up at the not-doctor, stunned into a horrified silence, mind thrown off its tracks and frozen into a stuttering halt. His stomach lurched threateningly with horror and nausea, and for several long moments, Ed felt as if he had forgotten how to even speak.

Or think.

And as the silence stretched on, it became abundantly clear that Justin was not joking.

He was… was actually… _serious._

He was…

Black horror pressed into him again, and for a heart-stopping moment, all he could see, hear, smell, taste, was blood.

It took a monumental effort to wrench himself back under control again, fighting for breath and calm as he shook his head back and forth, desperately clinging to the closest thing to reality and sanity that he could find. "No-" he heard himself rasp, voice trembling, "no, that's-"

"I'm not kidding, Edward."

"No, you…" He shook his head again, a weak gasp driven from him in horror all over again, "no- hey, y-you- don't take me for a fucking idiot, okay?! I'm not _stupid!_ I know you want the same things from Roy that you want from me! You didn't just take him to sit around and make me work for you! Fucking _liar,"_ he spat, but his voice was shaking, and suddenly half of him was _grateful_ for the stupid straitjacket because it meant Justin couldn't see him trembling. "You won't do anything to him, because you need him. I-" he swallowed, fighting his voice back to steady again. "I _know_ you do. I know you're lying to me."

Half calling his bluff, and half- not. Because Ed already knew he wouldn't risk it. He wouldn't even dare try and risk it. It was pathetic but he didn't even have to think about it to know if push came to shove, he'd give in long before Justin even got _near_ Roy. He couldn't risk it, not something this- this _horrible_. But- it had to be a bluff, right? It didn't make any sense if not, that was all this was, just that asshole blustering about, but-

But he couldn't risk it.

He couldn't risk hurting Roy.

But Justin just let out another careless laugh, eying him again with such clear amusement it was chilling. "I _need_ him?" he quoted, the words shaking with laughter, and suddenly Justin had approached him again, moving in reach and laughing at him again when Ed tried uselessly to jerk away, gasping and shaking. "Let me let you in on a little secret, Edward: Roy is useless to me. He is absolutely, positively _useless."_

"N- no!" Ed gasped, trying to argue but he could barely concentrate on the words, panic bursting inside him with every step Justin took closer to him. "I'm not stupid, I know you took him for a reason, I- I k-know you-"

 _"_ Yes, yes, Edward; in theory, I'd have both of you working for me, giving me what I want- but if I had to chose, I'd take you any day of the week. You're the better alchemist. You just are. Believe me, if I have to give up whatever little that dog would be able to give me to force your hand, it won't take me a second thought."

"That's _bullshit,"_ Ed shouted without a second thought, couldn't _let himself_ have that second thought, because if he took one moment to second guess himself now he'd cave and it would all be over. He jerked backwards again, straining desperately against the restraints as his breaths started to come shorter and shorter; it felt like he was being squeezed in a giant hand that was just going to keep crushing tighter and tighter until it killed him. "Y-you've... you've gone through way too much effort for Roy to just give him up, just like that- I'm not _stupid_ , you piece of s-shit, you-"

"I think you're underestimating just how much your cooperation is worth to me, Edward," he interrupted coldly, taking just another step forward, inching closer into little space that Ed had- the space that was rapidly being eradicated into nothing. "You're also underestimating just how much I dislike Roy. Do you realize how much I could do to him, if you decide your principles are more important than anything else, Edward?" And he was smiling, again, that cold, nasty smile that he was realizing more and more had been the only expression he'd ever seen from him, just always cloaked, disguised in a false warmth before now. Ed shot back, trying to squirm away, and Justin just laughed, shaking his head down at him like he was no more than an ant trying to run from the bottom of his boot. "I can take my time with Roy, Edward. You think I'm bluffing? I can just take a little finger- or maybe a toe. You think your principles are still more important than that? All right, then; we can work our way up to his hands. Although they'd hardly be a big loss by that point; I think after I've taken all his fingers, taking the hand as well would really just be insult to injury- but you get the point, don't you? And you'll be there the whole entire time, getting a front row seat, Edward. I'll be honest, now, I'm not a doctor- I don't have the slightest idea what I'm doing. It'll probably hurt _a lot."_ He laughed quietly, dropping lithely down to his knees to still loom over his head, to still press in close and crowd him and leave him squirming uselessly into the corner as he continued to smile.

"You still protest all you can, even after that?" he went on, leaning closer again. "If you still fight me then? His arms and legs are big enough targets to be easy pickings, Edward. Or…" He trailed off for a moment, looking him over amusedly, and smirked again. "…Maybe just one of each?"

Ed's stomach dropped. The empty space for his right arm and left leg suddenly hurt- which didn't even make any _sense,_ there was nothing even there to hurt, but- it did. It ached and stung, stomach tightening in horror, guilt piercing through him like a rusted blade, and no matter how far he pushed himself away, Justin was always right there, right in front of him, waiting- because there was nowhere to run.

Nothing he could do _at all_ , except just let Justin have his way.

And it was very, very clear that that now included abusing Roy to get to him.

Sure, Justin could still have been bluffing. He imagined he was, on some level. By his own admission, the stupid asshole wasn't even a doctor. In a hospital or not, there was no way Roy could survive all of that, and a dead Roy ( _no no no_ Ed's mind rebelled, screaming at him in panic-laced anguish _, no no no NO NO NO), no-_ a dead Roy was a useless Roy.

Which didn't matter in the slightest, because it was never going to get to that point.

He could not believe in this battle enough to fight it like this.

Not when Roy would be the one fighting it for him.

And _losing._

 _I can't do that to him. I can't. I can't I can't I can't. If he gets hurt- he's all I have anymore, he's done everything for me here, I can't- I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Roy, bastard, I-_

 _I can't-_

" _DON'T TOUCH HIM!"_

And Justin, again, just smirked.

"That's what I thought," he said quietly, and reached a hand forward to pat him on the top of the head.

Ed kicked away, gasping, wrenching his head out of reach, but with the straitjacket binding him so tightly he couldn't balance and ended up almost falling, panicking and a scream growing in his throat. No- no, no- _"Stop it!"_ he shouted, face burning hot with something close to terror, _"stop it, stop it!"_ but Justin only laughed.

"That's a good boy," he said, one hand grabbing him by the shoulder, yanking him still, and the other landing tightly on the top of his head again like he was just a fucking dog. He laughed like something was fucking _funny,_ and he was just the only one in on the damn joke. "Remember, Edward- you're not like Roy. You're my good dog. You don't have to be afraid of me yet, because we've got nothing against you. We have no interest in hurting a child, after all."

"I'm not a fucking kid, you, you- _get off of me! Get the hell off of me, you sick creep!"_ He tried kicking himself away again but the straitjacket bound him too securely to accomplish a single god damn thing and and Justin just kept his hand on his head and laughed at him. "Leave me alone, leave Roy alone, I- _I'm not a kid, you stupid-"_

"Edward. _Edward._ I _just_ told you, the only reason we're not willing to subject you to the same treatment Roy's getting is because you're a child. It is _really_ not in your best interest to throw a tantrum and try to convince me otherwise." He smirked again, ruffling his hair, then ruffling it harder when he shouted a protest, smiling at him and all that Ed wanted was him _gone, gone, GONE._

He wanted him gone so much, that when that dammed hand finally withdrew, and Justin was back on his feet again with his back turned, he didn't realize what was going on until it was too late.

"Hey- _hey! WAIT!"_ He pushed himself upwards, fighting his way to standing against the wall as the doctor- not-doctor- whatever the fuck he was walked off towards the door, just leaving him bound and trembling behind. "Hey, wait! I'll do it, I said I'll do it! Y-you- where are you-"

"Yes, of course you'll _do it,_ Edward," the man said dispassionately, turning just as he reached the door to pin him with an amused stare. "There was never any question about that."

"So, t-then-" He yanked at the horrible, confining jacket, fighting for freedom that wasn't coming. "So then- let me go, I'll do whatever you want, so- where are you going?! Let me out! Let me out, you have to let me out of here!"

"Oh? I- _have_ to?" Just at the door, now, right at the exit to the little padded cell, Justin stopped again, glancing back over his shoulder with that dark smile and glinting eyes. "No, Edward- no. I don't have to do a single thing for your sake, and in case you've forgotten, you're far from in charge here. You've agreed to work for me here? Great, I'm sure Roy will be very thrilled to hear it."

" _Leave him out of this!"_

"Things'll go much so easier for him because of it," he went on, continuing as if he hadn't said a single word, "and... that's it, Edward." He paused for a moment, tilting his head to the side as that same slick smile crawled across his features, twisting it into something cold, reeking with amusement, terrifying. "Your behavior affects Roy's treatment, and that's it. Regardless of what you do for me, Edward? You're staying right here."

There was another moment of stunned, impossible silence- and then, smile broadening to stretch across his entire face, Justin headed right out the door.

"Enjoy your new kennel, Edward!" he called, and the door to the padded cell swung shut behind him.

* * *

"I can't do it."

"Yes-" _crunch_ "-you _can."_

"I _can't_ ," Roy repeated steadily, voice shaking, and was rewarded with the instant and unforgiving smash of the bloodied pliers against his hand.

"Yes," Justin snapped, "you _can."_

As far as Roy was concerned, Justin could say _yes, you can_ all he liked, and he could pound bruise after blackening bruise into the back of his hand all he wanted to- that wouldn't change the fact that he _couldn't._

The black array under his hands stayed absolutely, inscrutably dead, because he didn't know how to activate it.

He hadn't before, and he still didn't now. Because he'd never gotten around to asking Ed- and it was just as stupid and simple as that. He'd never managed to ask Ed how to do it, because they'd been planning on escaping that very night, and-

Well.

Here he was.

And he still couldn't do it.

Problem was, the fake doctor didn't believe him.

Roy really didn't know how long he'd been here for, pretty much just sitting here on his knees and proving his ineptitude over and over again. He couldn't remember- nothing that had happened today had made much sense to him. Which he supposed he shouldn't be surprised by, because it was very clear they weren't going to bother explaining things to him anymore.

Justin had showed up, unlocking the padded room after- well, he didn't know how long he'd been in there. A day, maybe? A little less? A little more? He had _no clue._ And the others with him- dressed like more nurses, but were most definitely _not,_ because they'd had no trouble manhandling him to his feet and forcing him out the door after Justin. In fact, he was pretty sure the straitjacket had given him more freedom than those men had.

None of his questions had been answered, and while Roy would've liked to say he'd made a stand and refused to go or do anything with them until he'd been able to see Ed- well, his attempts to stand his ground had not been very impressive. He'd _tried,_ yes.

They just hadn't let him even entertain the possibility of fighting all of them off.

Now, Roy was quite sure he had a black eye, in addition to the growing bruises on his swelling hand. He'd simply been forced back into the room with the array, forced down onto his knees before it, and told to make it work.

This time, he _had_ been able to make a stand, and refuse.

That stand had lasted approximately three seconds, when Justin had informed him that the one to pay the consequences would not be him, but Ed.

Roy _was not_ taking that chance.

Only problem?

 _He couldn't make it fucking work._

Just like last time, he was actually genuinely, sincerely trying. After how harshly those men had treated him, he had no interest in getting them to prove their threats with Ed, and just wanted to get this done in hopes of getting his questions answered, maybe even finding something out. Just like last time, he was seriously trying to make it work.

He just didn't know how.

They might as well have handed him a scalpel and told him to perform open heart surgery. With all the motivation in the world, with all of the sincerest of intentions, he just did not know fucking how.

It also probably didn't help that he was trying it with a throbbing head, after having spent all night trying to get out of a padded, locked room while tied up in a goddamn straitjacket, and- oh, yeah. Every time he failed, the punishment got taken out on his hand.

The back was angrily bruised and darkening by the minute, throbbing so hard he could feel his pulse beat in the wounds. Two of his fingernails were already gone, the fingertips left an ugly, bleeding, twisted purple that was almost alien to look at.

He was trying not to look at them.

"Use the goddamn _circle,"_ Justin hissed, pushing his hand down so hard he had to catch a cry of pain, his knees buckling and back spasming in a desperate attempt to keep the anguish silent. God, fucking _god_ that _hurt!_

"I _can't!"_ he cried when he could spit the words past clenched teeth, ducking his head to gasp and fight his expression back away from the pain. When he could at last speak steadily again he raised his eyes back to meet Justin's calm gaze, jaw clenched and arms shaking, hot blood slick between his fingertips. "I've told you, over and over, that I _can't._ You got some sort of problem with me? Because it r- _really_ sounds as if you do."

Justin's smile broadened, and the cold pliers slammed steadily straight down on his hand again. "Yes, dog," he said simply. "I do."

Roy cried out again, half collapsing and hand seizing over the circle as his vision whited out, red hot pain screaming in his head, _ow ow ow OW OW_ _ **OW-**_

Some tiny sliver of his rational brain saw the circle sputter and burn, sparking angrily at him in uneven, jagged lines that spat an electrical shock right back at him. He cried out again, injured hand cradled against his chest, gasping for air past gritted teeth. His salamander array burned in his mind, sparking electrical blue and blinding him-

 _That's your array, Mr. Mustang-_

" _OW!"_ he shouted, his head and hand screaming at him in twin misery. He was too out of it to understand what had happened until his head hit the floor, the blow reverberating in his skull- and suddenly Justin there was above him again, and he wasn't the only one laughing this time, and _ow,_ his hand _hurt-_

"Hey, everyone, look! The dog did a trick!"

Again, there was laughter in the background, and Roy blinked furiously to clear the searing red from his vision.

"And now he's trying another one- play dead, dog, play dead!"

Even more laughter in his ears, and Roy swore he felt something in his hand _crunch._

It took a dizzy moment of dizzy silence for him to finally see the smirking not-doctor above him again, the man looking inordinately pleased at their current situation, and the nurses- guards- whatever still laughing behind him. "Fuck _off,"_ he gasped past clenched teeth, then gasped again when his hands, the bleeding, swelling one too, were grasped to pull him back upright.

"Well, it's official, isn't it? Dog's lying when he says he can't use the array- we all just saw him, didn't we?"

"I _can't,"_ Roy spat out, trembling on the cold floor, "I told you, I-"

"You just used the array," Justin interrupted, swinging around to stand in front of him, right in the damn impossible circle. Roy would've taken advantage to run, if those remaining men hadn't been waiting behind him, his head not still pounding from the blow they'd already give him.

"I- I don't know how, t-that- that was an ac-"

"You _just proved_ that you could do it. But you won't, will you? You still insist you won't use it for me?" He laughed loudly, shaking his head, the sounds in perfect, horrific timing with the pulse throbbing in his hand. "Tsk, tsk… Edward will be so disappointed to hear his welfare was worth so little to you. After all…" He paused again, then, coldly, smirked. "He's already proven he'll do it for you."

His heart skipped an agonizing beat. His stomach clenched.

No. No, no, no.

Ed... had already done this for him?

Ed had...

 _No..._

" _Wait!"_ he gasped, trying to lunge forward, bloodied hand scrabbling desperately over the floor but to no avail. "Wait, no- it's not his fault, it's not his fault! Don't punish him! It's my fault, I-"

"We've already made it quite clear to both of you what happens if you fail. Edward heeded our warning. You didn't. I hardly see how this is unfair."

" _Stop!"_ he cried again, heart hammering so fast it was getting hard to breathe, but this- he couldn't- no, no, he _couldn't_ let this happen- "It's not his fault, don't hurt him, don't do this to him! I'm trying, I don't know why it won't work, but y-you- you can't do that to him, _please,_ just take it out on me-"

They _couldn't_ hurt Ed for this. They couldn't, oh, god, the couldn't. Oh, god…

 _Ed's already done it for you… he said Fullmetal's done it for your sake- why won't it work?! Why can't I make it work?! They're going to hurt him, you worthless idiot, MAKE IT WORK, MAKE IT WORK_

He didn't realize he was slamming his bloodied hand down on the floor until he'd already been pulled away again, and was just hurling it down through the empty air.

It was those men behind him again, the same ones who'd hauled him from the padded cell, one at each elbow and in his current state, Roy just had no hope of pulling free. Justin was still standing in the useless circle, the circle he couldn't make work, the circle Ed was going to get _hurt_ over, and the not-doctor just raised a hand in mocking farewell, that same cold smile he'd been treated to all fucking day firmly in place.

"Let's try again tomorrow," he called, and it still looked as if it was taking him a considerable amount of self control not to burst out laughing at him. "I'm sure Edward, especially, will be interested to know if you've changed your mind by then."

" _STOP!"_ he howled, fighting past their arms, kicking and screaming. _"Stop!_ Let me try again, I'll do it this time, I _swear,_ please, please don't do this to him-"

And then the door was shut, blocking him from the man entirely, and he was still being forced down the hallway away from him.

He struggled and fought, feet slipping on the floor as he tried to pull away and throat hoarse from screaming by now but he just couldn't stop himself. They couldn't do this. They couldn't hurt Ed in his place. He _was_ trying, he had no idea what he was doing but he'd hit the circle over and over again- but they just couldn't hurt Ed because he couldn't do it. He was _trying!_ He was doing everything he could- oh, god, Ed had already done it for him, how could he not have managed it, how could not have saved Ed-

Roy barely felt the angry blows that rained down every time he nearly escaped or particularly annoyed his captors, pushing him back in line or re-securing his arms back in their grips. None of it mattered in the slightest. Because Ed was worse off than he was, and it was his fault, all of it was, oh, god, what had he _done…?_

 _You burned a country down, you burned Riza Hawkeye, you hurt Ed, you took his limbs from him-_

 _YOU'RE STILL HURTING HIM, ROY!_

 _ **HELP HIM, DAMN IT!**_

Roy barely felt it when he was finally hurled against another freezing wall, hitting his head hard enough to knock the wind out of him and the feeling out of his body. His legs went numb, vision whiting out once again. He only knew he was being moved again when the world tilted dangerously, spinning around him like he was a drunken sailor at sea; if it hadn't been for the hands on his arms, he would've hit the floor.

They were both saying things to him. It didn't sound nice, whatever it was, but he could barely hear the whispers over the roar in his own head.

 _Riza Hawkeye… Fullmetal…_

 _Your fault… your fault…_

It took him moments, maybe minutes, to fight his way back to sanity, if he'd ever been sane in the first place. When his vision finally cleared enough for him to see where he was, where he was being led to, drunken footstep after drunken footstep, it again took him a worryingly long time to realize what was wrong.

He balked again, trying to pull back; he was just yanked forward yet again, this time with a fist to his back "S-stop," he rasped, trembling harder. "This- this isn't where- where are you taking me?" This wasn't where he had come from. This was a different place. This was new. Why? Why, why?

They couldn't be taking him to see Ed, while they… hurt him…

 _Oh, god, no-_

But the man on his left laughed again, hauling him still down the hallway. "Don't you dogs listen as well as you bite?" he mocked, fingers so tight around his elbow they were bruising. "Boss wants you as far away from from the kid as possible. We don't want you two trying to plan anything again."

As far away from Ed… they were taking him from Ed? Roy shook his head slowly, trying to orient himself as he was pulled off again. Something about their words stuck in his head and it took him a moment, again, to realize why.

Dogs…

Justin had talked the same way about him. Dog. At first it had just sounded like an insult- but there had to be something else in there, now. He was sure of it. They all kept saying it about him, with a knowing sort of air, like it was a cruel, inside joke…

It meant something. Something else that he didn't remember.

Something else that he had to know.

And something else that he had no way to figure out, because they would never tell him, and even as he tried to find the words to ask regardless, already prepared to get another blow to the skull as his answer, his numb feet tripped over themselves all over again and he lurched forward, slamming into a door and toppling to the floor inside, still dizzy, still shaking, still out of his mind. Everything in him hurt and was disoriented; even sitting on the floor he felt utterly lost, in pain and shaking- and once again, it took him far too long to realize the room he'd tripped into.

Once again, it took him far too long to realize what was wrong.

It was the room with the ice baths.

Some of them already filled up, restraining straps hanging empty around them, waiting, waiting for more unwilling patients, waiting to be used on them against their will. He recognized it, from the number of times he'd been forced in here before- ironically, this was probably the first time he'd been in here truly under his own free will, considering he'd tumbled head over heels through the door because he was too dizzy and disoriented to keep on his feet.

He still really did not want to be here.

 _Really._

The two men stood in the doorway still, staring down at him with varying levels of annoyance and outright anger. He'd never really looked at them before and couldn't help but stare now, shaking and frightened on the floor; both bigger than him, both undrugged and unbruised and twice as capable as he was, one pale and dark-haired, another dark-skinned and with red eyes.

Roy blinked, rubbing a badly shaking hand over his eyes to try and clear his head all over again. "Uh- I-" he stammered. He didn't know what he wanted more- to pull away from the waiting, pissed off men in the doorway, or throw himself as far away from this room as he could get.

Then his choice was made for him, when the dark-skinned one roughly shouldered his way into the room, moving straight for him.

"Hey!" Roy shouted, flailing backwards even as the hand shot out to grab him by the front of his shirt. "Hey, stop! Let me-"

"Shut up," the man growled, hauling him straight up off the ground even when he kicked and gasped, panic bursting in his chest when the floor was gone and his support was robbed and obliterated. He shoved, heart pounding, and this time his arms were hooked behind his back and he was shoved right back, forced to his knees, and one angry hand grabbed at the back of his head. "Shut _up,_ dog," the man hissed at him again, and then thrust his head forward.

He screamed again.

Or, tried to.

The world ground to a blazing halt around his ears, searing in his mind and howling through his brain as he was plunged up to his neck in ice water and held down to drown. He kicked and screamed, instinct driving him like a wild animal, could hear voices above him, could feel his arms still being pinned and head held down, but nothing beyond the roar of water in his ears was real as he kicked and kicked and kicked and wanted _out._ He couldn't breathe, he kept trying over and over, instinct kept forcing screams from his mouth that did nothing but let water down his throat, his lungs burned, his body hurt-

 _Let me go! LET ME GO, LET ME GO!_

He saw fireworks, or maybe not, maybe just fire, his fires, his world burning to the ground; he heard Riza Hawkeye screaming, he wanted to snap snap _snap,_ he felt his bleeding, pounded fingers doing it over and over again. Another scream tore from his throat and the fingers at the back of his head pushed again, gripping his hair, there was someone laughing…

The stinging pain washed against him again, but gentler than before, receding as he started to waver. He tried kicking again, knowing he should, knowing he _had to,_ it was all he could do- but he couldn't get his foot off the ground this time. It felt so heavy… he couldn't…

Couldn't think…

A sick black swam gently through his eyes, the water and the pain fading away. The world tilted, and he tilted with it, watching it all drift and drift and drift away. The pain went with it, and his blue… his blue was _there…_ Roy reached, fingers shaking, soul searching…

When he opened his eyes next, the world pressed straight back into him like a punch to the face.

He was lying on his side on the floor, shivering and gasping, lungs burning as he coughed and coughed and coughed. He felt the water spill all over his face, entirety of his body throbbing like a giant bruise, and the shock of it all pressed into him so hard he almost forgot how to breathe.

It was nothing at all compared to the ice baths. It wasn't even in the same world as that. This had been suffocating and drowning all at once, and instead of a condescending nurse by his side it had been someone shoving him facefirst into the water, someone who had _wanted_ to see him hurt. He'd thought it had been bad before- _god-_

"W-what… was _that?"_ he rasped after many, many seconds of just coughing and shaking. It was a horribly stupid idea, and even stupider the moment his words attracted two angry glares down in his direction, but the rational part of his brain had been turned off long ago. "Y-you all said- wouldn't p-punish me- F-Fullmetal-" he spat, water dribbling down his chin, and god he wasn't _complaining_ he'd take that a hundred times before Ed had to take it once, but that _was_ what they'd said, and-

"You think we give a damn what he said?" the dark-skinned one snapped, the one who'd thrust him into the water. Roy blinked, black spots obscuring his vision again, and suddenly a hand was on his shirt again and lifting his throbbing bruise of a body up into the air. "We'll give you what you deserve, _dog."_

Roy shivered and coughed again, too weak to do anything but just turn his head to the side and let the water spill out. He felt like he was _dying._ "…y-you…"

"Shut up, Flame," the man snapped, and he was thrust underwater again.

Roy passed out long before they lifted him out again.


	13. Chapter 13

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* * *

Roy knew his new routine to the letter.

It wasn't as if he had anything else to do other than learn it, after all.

He wasn't given any freedom any longer. No more sitting out on couches with Ed. No more chances to sneak patient files. No more nurses who might let the details slip... there was _none of it._ He had gone from somewhat unwilling hospital patient to a prisoner overnight, and it showed.

Every bit of it showed.

Whenever they didn't need him he was left alone in his room; ironically, how this entire ordeal had began. Alone in his tiny, windowless room, with the door locked and it didn't even matter, because he was restrained to the bed, _again_ ; wrists and ankles and another strap across his chest, and he wasn't going to be breaking these, because they wouldn't even so much as tear no matter how hard he struggled. He knew, because he'd already tried once before; made an ironclad pact with himself to fight for the whole night long and not rest until he'd at least gotten at least one limb free.

Eight hours later, he was exhausted, sore as a bug that had been stepped on, and had earned only a knock to the head for his efforts, when the guards came by the next morning and realized the mess.

He hadn't torn even one of them.

That was another thing- guards. Those two men from before, the dark-haired one and the dark-skinned one. Not nurses, anymore; _guards._ Sure, they were still dressed as hospital staff, but Roy didn't know who they were trying to fool, because it certainly wasn't him or themselves. These weren't smiling women who gave him patronizing, sad looks and told him this was all for his benefit; they didn't even try to lie. These weren't nurses who chided him when he fought back; they were _guards_ who just threw punches until he went down.

Roy was pretty sure he preferred it this way.

Even if it tended to hurt a lot more.

The next step in the routine was when they needed him, and he hated this part of it, just like he hated all the rest of it. On the dot, every morning they'd come in to his room turned cell, not speaking to him, barely even looking at him, but tense enough to fight him if they had to. They'd disconnect the drip in his arm, still pouring god knew what into him, but whatever it was it had to be sedatives of some kind. He'd tried fighting back, at first, but was just too drugged and uncoordinated to beat them both at once and had found himself subdued, painfully, every time. But it wasn't as if it mattered much, either, because they gave him next to no opportunity to fight back. Roy wasn't sure he could've won even if they _hadn't_ been drugging him senseless every night anyway.

Their procedure was the same, every day, almost safe in its monotony. First his right wrist was freed from its strap, the sluggish limb lifted up into the air by one of the guards, assholes, thugs, whomever; then a handcuff was clicked shut around it for the steel to bite into his skin. Then the same to his other arm, binding his hands in front of him before he'd even had the chance to blink. Only then would they free the rest of him and haul him up, each grabbing onto one of his arms like he was no more than a common criminal, and forcing him out into the hallway.

The second day, Roy had tried to run.

Just taken off running, in any other direction that was not _here_ as fast as he could get.

He'd earned a twisted ankle and another blow to the head for his troubles, and the promise of much, much worse, if he ever tried it again.

Not that it mattered, because he still had no idea where _here_ even was, or where the hell was supposed to run if he ever got free.

Not that it mattered, because the message in all these careful restraints and guarding was very, very plain:

He was never getting free.

They'd hustle him off down the hallways then, the same path every time; he had it memorized, by this point, because the destination never once altered. Justin- Roy refused to think of that man as a doctor now; whatever the hell he was, he was _not_ that- always him; always fucking Justin, and one of his arrays. Every single time.

Whatever reason they had taken him and Ed for, it very clearly had been ordered by Justin, and it was because they wanted him and Ed using those arrays for him. He didn't know anything else anymore, had no hope or chance to ever learn anything again- but that much, he was sure of.

Sometimes, Roy had to wonder just who they thought he was; what they thought him capable of. He might not remember any of it, but somehow, he doubted this much careful procedure was the norm with prisoners in this country- but with him, they acted as if he was some sort of super-soldier or god. Like one splitsecond free, and he'd incinerate them all. It was almost funny; would've made him laugh if it wasn't so horrific, because all Roy could think to do if they unlocked his restraints right now and sat down on the floor to give him free reign was just to turn and run for his life. What did they think he was capable of? What was he supposed to be able to _do?_ Clearly it was something horrible to be guarded this closely, and Roy would believe it, too; with everything he could remember he knew he was a _horrible_ person and at this point Roy would give anything to remember even more, because it might just have been his key to escaping-

But he didn't.

He remembered _nothing._

All he knew was that he still dreamed of fire, and he still saw his array, seared into his mind amidst the screams.

Each day, every day, they'd force him back to the room with the array, and _Justin._ Each day, every day, they'd force him down to his knees before it, and Roy would dutifully try to activate it, because he had no _choice._ His hands cuffed in front of him, the guards didn't even have to release his bindings for him to work for them; he just awkwardly thrust them forward and touched the lines on the floor, and- nothing would happen. Nothing at all.

Well, not _nothing._ The circle would remain totally dead, sure.

Then, as his answer, Justin would return to beating his hands into oblivion. Sometimes just crushing the bleeding pliers into the back of his bleeding hands; other times, taking his sweet time ripping his fingernails off, one by one by one.

Sometimes the pain would get him to make the circle light up again. Sometimes not.

Roy had quit looking at his hands a long time ago.

And then, then, Justin would just give him that cold grin announcing _thank you for your service, dog,_ with some sort of strange irony Roy didn't recognize but that always set the guards off laughing, and he'd just be hauled back to his feet and dragged off back out of the room, with the promise that Edward would thank him for his continuing failures no matter how he screamed for them to stop, to hurt him instead- but it had already long ago become apparent that it didn't matter in the slightest what he said.

Justin was going to do whatever he wanted to him, and whatever he wanted to Ed, and that was that.

There was nothing he could do to stop it.

Then, of course, however… they didn't take the same way back.

He wasn't sure if Justin knew; in fact, Roy was rather sure he didn't, since it was clear Justin's only aim was to keep him failing to use that damn array until he died, and this didn't seem at all conducive to that goal. But it was clear the guards had some sort of grudge against him. Some sort of reason to hate him; to Roy, they were just his captors- but he was very obviously more than a prisoner to them. He had done _something_ to wrong them, and whatever it was was bad enough that they _hated_ him.

Because every day that he lurched from that room, bleeding hands still cuffed in front of him and the guards hands still on his arms, they took a little detour before heading back to his room. Just a little detour.

Back to the room with the ice baths.

Again, they didn't bother to pretend it was a treatment for his benefit anymore.

They just shoved him down on his knees and forced his head beneath the water until he stopped moving.

Sometimes they let it end at that. Other times, they'd drag him back upright again, making him cough and gasp and just when he'd gotten his first breath of air dive him back under again; this time it'd only take seconds before the black obscured his vision, only for him to be dragged back out again- and then submerged once more.

They went on until they got tired, or he passed out for good.

Either one seemed to work, with them.

Roy learned to hold his breath when they got near the room. If he timed it just right, he'd run out of air just as they stuck his head under the water for the first time, and the minutes spent flailing would transform into only seconds. Painful, terrifying seconds- but seconds all the same, and then, he'd just wake up tied back down to the bed again.

Anything he could do to decrease the amount of time spent in that room... even if it didn't work very often.

The one constant he had, the one constant he had _ever_ had since this new routine had started, was that he never saw or heard any sign of Ed.

He'd tried yelling for him. He'd tried. He'd tried pulling away from the guards to run for him. He'd tried so _hard._ He'd done everything of what little was in his power to find him.

He'd gotten nothing more than some bruised ribs and a probable concussion for his efforts. And what was worse, he'd never expected anything different.

From what very little he'd been told, he and Ed had purposefully been separated as much as possible. They'd taken Roy back to his old room, which meant Ed was _not_ in his old room- probably nowhere close to him at all. Probably… _well…_

Probably…

Left back in that padded cell.

It made him sick to think it. It made him sick with terror to even acknowledge it as a possibility. But Roy knew the strongest possibility was that he had been taken back to his room and tied to the bed- and Ed had been left in that padded cell in a straitjacket.

The same place they'd already left him alone for over two weeks before.

Roy hated it, god, he _hated it._ He'd do anything to switch places with him. He remembered how terrified Ed had been after that nightmare, how tightly he'd clung to him and the sound of him sobbing burned into his soul, the way he'd stuttered and stammered and not even been able to put his misery into words- god… Roy would change places with him in a _heartbeat._ He didn't want Ed left alone in that hell for another fucking _hour-_ but it had been hours, now. Hours and hours, days and days; Roy had zero way of keeping track of the time anymore but he knew it had to have been _weeks!_ It had been weeks since Justin had found the skipped sedatives and the hospital ward had become a prison, and if Ed had been left like that _this entire time…_

 _Oh, god, Ed…_

And worst of all?

Roy had never been so helpless in his life. He couldn't help himself; he barely had the freedom to do more than twitch, every hour of every day. He didn't know where he was. He didn't remember _who_ he was. He was as useless and incapable as wet paper. Ed could've been locked up in the room right next to him- and Roy wouldn't have been able to so much as try and talk to him, to give him something to hang onto in his worst, personal hell.

There was absolutely nothing that he could do for him.

* * *

Ed learned how to disassociate.

That was the best way to put it.

He spent most of his time with his eyes closed. It was easier. It was _easier_ to just close his eyes, and imagine everything around him the way he wanted it to be. Imagine himself out of this hospital, away from here, in a place where this hospital had never existed and he'd never been a patient in the first place.

Even when the walls started to crush in around him, creaking in through his walls to press the air straight out of his lungs, he kept his eyes closed.

It was easier that way.

He'd learned early on spending too much time staring around white, padded walls, white, padded floor, identical white, padded ceiling, nothing at all left in the rest of the world but that tiny, white, padded room, and getting tinier by the second-

Well, he'd learned early on it was best not to do that.

Early on being relative, of course. He thought early on. It felt like early on. Maybe just a day or two after being left in that room. Or… maybe an hour. Maybe a week, maybe a minute-

He didn't know.

Oh, god, he didn't know how long he'd even been in here.

The only time he was let out of the room was to use the array, but it didn't matter that he kept track of that anymore, because his chances of escape then were so low he had better luck opting to wait for a meteor to strike the hospital. The guards twice his size, manhandling him out of the straitjacket to force him roughly into a wheelchair, by his side at all times… even if he'd been Roy, with all four limbs to use, he didn't believe he could've made it.

As it was?

He hadn't even tried.

He knew he wouldn't make it, and he wasn't going to ever risk them hurting Roy because he'd tried to run.

He still used the array for them, every single time it was put down in front of him because he had no choice. He'd do it for Roy. This was all he could do now; the _only_ choice he had in his life now was this, either to fight back and be stubborn or keep Roy safe- so he did it every time. He kept Roy safe. He kept Roy safe even though he'd hadn't seen the bastard in days and the guards wouldn't even _look_ at him when he begged to know what was happening to him. He kept Roy safe to the point that he was fucking _proud of it,_ damn it.

Because that was all he had left.

They forced him down onto the array, and that was the one moment he was free, free, _free_ , the one moment of his life where he existed and was something besides what Justin had forced him to be. The brilliant electricity would flow from him and his heart would beat in time with the light and that was the only moment of his life anymore that his mind was clear- until the array coughed up whatever they wanted for the day. Always, gold. And then he'd do it again. And again, and again, and again-

As many times as they asked him to.

They just kept him using the same array over and over, dragging in raw materials until they either ran out or _he_ ran out, keeling over on the floor in a dead faint and waking up some hours later back in the padded cell and straitjacket and head aching, muscles fatigued into nothing, body filled with what felt like dead fluff. Whereas before his limits had mattered, and Justin had pushed him only just to them but not beyond, now…

Well, it clearly didn't matter anymore. They had him use the array until he couldn't anymore because he didn't have the strength, and only let him stop because he was unconscious and not able to go on.

Passing out there was probably the best part of his day.

He never knew how long he was like that for; there was no clock in that damn room, and the lights always stayed on, too, just like before; a horrid bright light piercing into his skull twenty four seven until the only darkness he got was that in his own head. But passing out became the only peace he _had._ He tried to sleep as much as he could, but even as exhausted as he was he could never get comfortable, trying desperately to just curl up on the flat floor even as his shoulders screamed at him and the walls tried to close in around him- and then, there was the nightmares- the rotting woman calling him sweetheart, that suit of armor that wouldn't _talk to him,_ and no _w Roy being hurt because of him-_

As crazy as it probably made him, the dead nothingness of passing out, even though it meant waking up back in the straitjacket and alone, was all the peace he had.

He tried, normally, just to think about that, and nothing else.

Because everything else that he had to focus on was bad.

Before, Justin had cared about trying to hold up this facade of a mental hospital, and he had at least _seemed_ to care about trying to keep him and Roy alive, and in good enough condition to help him. But as the days... _weeks..._ went by, Ed was starting to realize just how much none of that was true anymore.

Obviously the bastard didn't care that he and Roy knew none of his facade and lies were real, but it went deeper than that now. Justin had all but admitted Roy was only helpful to him any longer as a tool in getting him to cooperate, and as for Ed himself, it _really_ didn't seem like Justin cared any longer about keeping him even moderately healthy. He hadn't eaten in _days._ He had to assume they gave him drugs again when he passed out because that was the only way he could still even be _alive_ without having starved to death by now. The only moment he was even let out of the fucking straitjacket was to use his damn array, his arm hurt so badly he could hardly even _sleep_ anymore, and every day the amount of gold he was transmuting seemed to increase just a little bit more, until he saw it even in his sleep...?

Ed may not remember too much about this alchemy stuff, but he was pretty damn sure that wasn't healthy.

Justin didn't care if he and Roy knew the truth about him because Justin wasn't intending on them _ever_ getting out of here. One day, he was going to hand him too much of a transmutation, expect too much gold to pour of his hands, and he was going to kill himself trying to do the reaction and that was that. The end. He'd die and then-

Then Roy would be dead, too.

Because that was what Justin had told him, wasn't it? Roy was only being kept alive to force his hand. And so far it was fucking _working;_ he was too terrified of what they'd do to Roy to even think of refusing them- but what happened when he wasn't around for them to manipulate? Justin had said he didn't care at all about what little Roy could do for him so if he died, what did that mean for Roy?!

Ed couldn't care about getting out of here for Al anymore. That was just too abstract and distant for him to believe in. It hurt so much to admit that, it hurt so much to turn his back on the woman's corpse and the suit of armor in his dreams, to close his eyes to everything he'd ever wanted... but right now, every moment of every day spent in this cell wrapped up in this straitjacket or under such heavy guard he couldn't fucking sneeze without getting hit, escaping to find his family just didn't exist anymore. It was never going to happen. He was never going to see any of them ever again. He was never going to even know who they were enough to properly miss them.

Al would never be anything real to him ever again.

Sometimes, he whispered _Fullmetal_ to himself, when he'd been alone in that cell for hours, just to remind himself that it and Roy were real, and he was something beyond this room.

But... if he was being honest with himself?

His own life hardly mattered to him anymore, either. It was almost frightening to fell that- that _uncaring_ about his own life or death, to not even be scared about it, but... it was the truth.

With his life having been reduced to this, it was hard to keep on caring about himself. On some level, he guessed Justin knew that... and that was why he had given him the incentive to stay alive.

Roy.

If he died, then Roy was dead.

And he wasn't going to fucking let that happen.

There was an excruciatingly loud grating of metal, the hallmark of keys grinding in the lock that wasn't actually that loud, but after so many hours of dead silence it always hit him as earsplitting every time. Ed took in a shuddering breath and squeezed his eyes shut before the door ever even opened; it was easier just _not_ to look. It was easier to mentally place himself just somewhere else, and try as hard as he could not to hear the guards breaking noisily into the cell or feel the hands on him as the straitjacket was roughly taken off, or as he was all but thrown into the wheelchair he'd known was waiting. If he didn't fight them, they wouldn't hurt Roy.

 _So long as you behave, everything stays okay... just behave, Fullmetal...  
_

He kept his eyes shut as they started pushing him down the hall, already well aware that seeing the new sights and hearing the new sounds was too much for him. He'd been in that cell so long it made him all but panic to see anything else, but that- that didn't matter; he could just keep his eyes closed and think about Roy and it'd be okay. It had to be okay. And the guards didn't hurt him if he didn't fight back, either; sure, his arm was _killing_ him, and if he screwed up and let himself panic too badly it would start getting hard to breathe and then he'd hurt all over so- so it was just safest this way, wasn't it? It was easiest this way. Just block out the rest of the real world, because why not; he'd never get to experience any of it ever again anyway, just do what Justin wanted from him, and that was it.

Roy would stay alive if he did, and that was that.

The short journey to the array room was one he'd learned intimately; it was burned into his very brain even with his eyes closed and as detached as he could make it. He recognized when the door that opened was the last one, and he kept his eyes closed still, not even wanting to see the horrific pile of material waiting for him to transmute as he moved to crawl out of the wheelchair, already all but shaking with the nervous anticipation for the period of dead unconsciousness that was to come.

"Edward, stop."

His stomach lurched, and his heart skyrocketed to pound in his ears, so abruptly panicked he couldn't even move.

Different. Something was different.

Why was it different? Why was Justin making things be different now? After all this time, why- why suddenly a change in the routine? The first time since this nightmare had began- a difference, why was there a difference, why were things changing- god, were they going to hurt Roy? Ed didn't care if they were going to try and do something worse to him, but if they hurt _Roy-_

His eyes jerked open, all but against his will, to land right on Justin.

The not doctor wasn't even looking at him, withdrawn in the corner and speaking in rushed, muted tones to another, the guards still behind him and one hand already on his shoulder, tensed as if ready to strike him should he even dare to try and disobey the order. Ed stared in increasing almost panic at where Justin stood arguing with someone he'd never seen before; their words were too fast and quiet for him to catch anything specific, but...

He'd never seen Justin like this before.

He'd never seen him look that frantic before.

"-out of _time!"_ he exclaimed, gesturing frantically, "Tomorrow if not today- I say we just do it now, get rid of him for us-" He broke off, shooting Ed such an abruptly cold, venomous look that his stomach lurched again and his gaze was suddenly forced back down to his knees, corralled like a pathetic dog, and then they were back to arguing again but too soft for him to hear.

Shaking, not even daring to look back over at them again, he looked shakily back over at the array on the floor.

He froze again.

No.

No, no, no.

 _No._

Ed's whole world ground to a nauseating halt, shock and horror piercing through him like an ice cold blade as everything about him revolted so hard he almost threw up.

The array, too, was different.

No.

Wrong.

 ** _Wrong!_**

The array for the gold had been wrong, he'd thought so, but he hadn't even known what wrong fucking was. This- he couldn't tear his eyes away, couldn't breathe, it was so wrong he couldn't think, no, no no no, oh god no, wrong, wrong wrong **_wrong-_**

 _I can't do it, I can't, I won't, I can't touch that, IT'S WRONG IT'S WRONG IT'S WRONG NO PLEASE  
_

The hands were on his shoulders again, but this time- oh, god. This time they were moving him forwards. Closer to- to that- _thing-_

 _"No!"_ he screamed, kicking out desperately and throwing himself back like the ink would burn him. _"No! Stop it! STOP IT! DON'T MAKE ME, PLEASE!"_

He could hear them saying things to him, ordering him to do it, probably, threatening him, but he just didn't _care._ He couldn't feel any of it anymore; his mind was overridden by terror so complete he couldn't thing or move or do _anything_ but get as far away from that circle as possible. _"STOP! STOP, STOP, PLEASE! LET ME GO, DON'T MAKE ME-"_

"Sit _down!_ " Another hand on him, this time Justin's; right in his face as he was violently shoved to the floor then forced to the circle, and his pathetic flails did no more to stop it than wet paper.

 _"Stop, stop-"_

"I said sit _down,_ Edward!" Justin shouted and this time it came with a backhand to the face; he barely felt it as he kicked and screamed, trying to pull back, but the hands stayed on him like iron and he couldn't go _anywhere._ "Sit down and calm down! You've been so good up until now, Edward; you're not _really_ going to force my hand, are you, n-"

 _"NO! NO! NO!"_ He tricked to kick away again, a frantic gasp turned sob driven from his chest as he pulled back, shaking his head over and over. He couldn't do this, he wanted _out- "PLEASE, STOP!"_

 _"Edward,"_ he started warningly, hand raised as if to strike him again- but he was too far gone to care.

He couldn't do this. He'd rather die then touch that circle, and he knew right then and there that that wasn't an exaggeration; if Justin took out a scalpel and pressed it to his throat he'd let him do it before he touched it. Every fiber of his soul screamed that it was _wrong_ and every bit of himself that he'd scraped together into surviving every last ordeal here just knew that they would all shatter if he so much as touched that array.

He couldn't. It was _wrong,_ and he- he-

Justin grabbed him again, pinning him down to the floor and grabbing his hand to yank it forward, trapping it to the cold tiles as his other fist raised to force his head up, making him look him in the eye. "You didn't forget, did you, Edward? What happens if you disobey me here?"

 _"STOP IT!"_ he shouted again, fighting to pull away but Justin just gripped his face harder. " _SHUT UP, SHUT UP, I WON'T DO IT! YOU CAN'T MAKE ME!"_

 _It's wrong, it's wrong, it's wrong-_

The blow actually did come this time, glancing off his head somewhere but Ed was too terrified to feel it. He couldn't care, either, when Justin yanked him closer again, forcing him to look up at him and nowhere else; he was almost too terrified to even comprehend the words as he spoke.

"If you go against us, we take it out on Roy."

 _Almost._

It was wrong- he couldn't touch it, he just could not, he would rather die than touch it, he'd rather be murdered on the spot than get near it; it was wrong, it was wrong, it was wrong-

Roy.

He couldn't do it, he _wasn't supposed to;_ he'd transmute gold for the rest of his life if it meant he never had to look at that thing again-

Roy.

It was _WRONG!_ He wasn't supposed to! It was just- just _wrong-_

 _Roy._

Justin would hurt...

No.

Justin would _kill Roy._

 _But-_

 _But-_

Another frantic, terrified sob spilled out his throat, anguish splitting his chest in two.

But...

It was wrong. He couldn't touch it. He wasn't supposed to; if he wasn't going to hell already he would the second he touched that circle. He just... oh, god. He _didn't want to._ Everything about this was wrong and no part of it was okay, it was all just nauseatingly _wrong-_

He wanted _out of here-_ he couldn't do this anymore-

But the price for this wasn't his own life.

They'd hurt _Roy._

 _I..._

 _I can't..._

There was another blow to the back of the head, this one that hurt more than any of the ones before it, and suddenly Justin was at his back again, shoving him down to the floor where the only thing was that huge, horrible circle right in front of him. "I knew you'd see things my way, Edward," he chastised coldly, and his stomach lurched again; Edward, _Edward,_ he just wanted to hear Roy call him Fullmetal again- he just wanted Roy back here, he wanted Roy to just make this all go away-

His heart skipped another beat, pounding so fast and hard he almost threw up.

Roy wasn't here.

And if he didn't do this, he never would be again.

Ed stared down at the horrible circle again, his hand trembling and his stomach churning so badly he could taste the nausea in his throat. A broken, terrified sob cracked out through his voice, and for several moments, all he could see was that horrible circle- and all he could think about was Roy.

He closed his eyes again, sobbing frantically- and held his hand out to the circle.

* * *

When everything stopped hurting, and the road in his head stopped, Ed finally managed to fight his eyes open again.

Everything was white.

Or maybe it was more accurate to say _nothing_ was, because there was nothing here. It was just- just a massive, expansive white _nothingness._

His first, very immediate thought, was that he was dead.

 _Was he_ dead?

There was nothing here at all- no hospital, no Justin, no monster array, no anybody else... and it didn't hurt, either. His shoulder had stopped hurting, and the guards were gone, and-

Where _was he?_

"H- hello?" he called anxiously, hoarse voice scratching out nervously past his throat. "Is... anyone there?" _  
_

His voice echoed like it was an empty chasm.

Ed swallowed anxiously again.

Where was he? Where was Justin? Where was _Roy?_

How the hell had he ended up here?

"Hello?" he called shakily again, turning his head to stare anxiously behind his back.

A scream so loud it hurt his throat ripped away from him and left him collapsed on the nonexistent ground, gasping so hard he almost passed out.

There was something else there with him.

A grinning, white _something._ A body that was all white, and a face that was all teeth and no eyes, and a thing that was _smiling_ at him.

Waiting for him.

The thing's grin widened.

"Hello, Edward," it laughed, head tilting to the side. "Long time, no see."


	14. Chapter 14

Thank you all so much for reviewing! This chapter here is short; I'm sorry for the length, but it's just a brief interlude to transition to the second half of the fic. Lots of people were predicting things were about to start changing- and you're right ;) A change of scenery is _really_ soon now, I promise! Whether it's Hughes and Riza charging in guns blazing, or Ed and Roy saving themselves, or something else entirely- well, you'll just have to hang around to next update to see. But I promise it's coming! Let's just get through this chapter first...

* * *

 _"Hello, Edward," it laughed, head tilting to the side. "Long time, no see."_

If he'd possessed the strength, balance- or at the very least, the number of limbs- necessary to run, at that horrific smile, Ed would've turned his back, started running for his life, and never looked back.

As it was, he couldn't do anything more than stand there, trembling, and pierced through with such undeniable terror it felt like that thing was about to eat him alive, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Because, well.. there wasn't.

"What?" the thing asked, somehow quietly and loudly all at once, spreading its eerie white arms in a parody of such innocence it somehow terrified him even more. "Aren't you going to say hello? And I thought we were old friends, Edward."

Ed inched slowly back on the white not-ground, his hand shaking on the cold, non-existent plane. His instincts screamed at him to get away but even if he'd had both legs, there was nowhere to run, and just by the way that thing was looking at him... _not_ looking at him, because it didn't even have _eyes..._

He got the horrifying feeling that if he turned around and ran for miles, that thing would always be right behind him.

"We..." He swallowed weakly, desperately trying to steady his voice. "You... know me?"

The thing bared its teeth in another manic grin. "And you know me, Edward Elric. Better than any other human in recent memory... your recollection of me is just a little blocked, at the moment." It lowered its arms to the floor, still smiling. "Not to worry. I'll be fixing that shortly."

Ed shook his head, any and all words dying miserably in his throat. He just- it was too much. That _wrong_ array, then this strange place, and that _thing,_ all after Justin and the padded cell and missing Roy- "I don't understand," he gasped numbly, his hand fumbling to push himself back an inch again. "I- I don't-" He looked around again, but there was nothing but white stretching as far as the eye could see... the only thing there was that the humanoid, grinning creature sitting right there before him. "What's going on? W-where- _who-"_

The thing sighed, shaking its head and somehow managing to look almost _disappointed,_ despite its face only being a mouth and its entire aura the most threatening thing Ed had ever felt in his life. "I always did expect we'd meet again, but I'll admit, not even I foresaw it happening under this circumstances. I'm rather upset, Edward. Our meetings always managed to surprise me, but this one, as you are now... this isn't going to be exciting at all."

Ed tried to swallow back the uncertain terror collecting in his throat, shaking his head again and yet unable to drag his eyes off the thing. He didn't have a fucking clue where he was, just that it was somewhere he wasn't supposed to be, he didn't have a fucking clue who or _what_ that thing was, just, again, that it was something he wasn't supposed to see-

But that thing was talking like it knew him.

For the first time since ending up in this hospital-

There was something that _knew him._

"Who- who are you?" Ed finally forced out, pointing a hand that he fought steady out at the grinning thing as he straightened himself up, forcing as much bravado into his voice as he could. What did it matter, anyway? He'd already given up caring about his own life, what did it matter if that thing killed him; he was terrified but some part of him still just couldn't care, and he clutched onto that part, using it to keep as calm as he knew how and find out everything he could. "How do you know me?! How did you know I wouldn't remember you?!"

The thing, once again, looked as close to disappointed as he could imagine.

"I am Truth, Edward Elric," it sighed, tilting its head as it continued to gaze at him; somehow even without eyes he just _knew_ that thing could see and it was looking right at him. "I am the one, and the all. I know everything that's happened to you. And to your Roy. And to your Justin..." It paused, its slick grin broadening just a small, unnerving bit. "To your Al."

Ed's heart dropped.

 _To..._

 _No, I'm- I'm not supposed to care about that anymore. If I can't get out of the hospital to see Al again, I'm just- I'm not supposed to care about him- I told myself I wouldn't, it's too hard, it hurts too much, I can't, I- I-_

 _"Al?!_ You- you know Al?! W-who... who is he?! Is he okay?! He- _is Al okay?!_ "

The thing... Truth... smirked again.

"Ah, ah, ah," it cautioned, raising a single finger to wave it at him. That was all it did, but that was all it had to do even as Ed's heart pounded so hard and his mind raced so fast he almost forgot to breathe.

Whatever this strange, _wrong_ place was, and whatever t _hat_ thing was- there had to be rules. Just like that array that had taken him here in the first place; it wasn't just _magic,_ there was right and wrong and rules, and- and maybe that was one of the rules. Maybe that Truth thing couldn't just tell him things he wasn't supposed to already know. Maybe-

 _He knows Al..._

 _That..._

 _That means Al's real._

Ed stopped, something agonizing and yet intensely _happy_ expanding in his heart to the point that it hurt.

 _My Al is real._

He really was out there.

Ed stopped tremulously, taking another moment to just breathe- but for a moment, no matter how wrong and terrifying the situation was, all he could do was smile.

"Okay," he finally managed, calming himself down with a shiver, because whether Al was out there or not, he was still trapped in here. "You can't tell me about Al. But... but you can tell me about me?"

Truth nodded slightly, that eerie smile still stuck firmly in place.

Ed hesitated, something close to panic collecting in his throat. "...Can you tell me about Roy? Can you tell me if _he's_ okay?"

Truth just smirked.

His heart clenched, something cold washing through him from head to toe. _Looks like a no, then._

"Yes, Edward, I do know you," Truth went on, so suddenly Ed all but jumped, another cold chill shooting down his spine as his skin itched and crawled. "This would be our third meeting... I've never met _anyone_ three times before. Usually once is the limit; most die on their way through. Ah-" Truth scratched at its head, grimacing faintly in mock confusion. "I believe I'm supposed to meet your Roy rather soon, as well; it'd be his first time, too, and if things stay as they are, a rather unique visit. I'm looking forward to it."

Ed's heart dropped again, just as Truth returned its frigid smile back onto him.

"R... Roy's... they're going to make him..."

"Ah, ah, ah," Truth warned again, shaking its head, and the words caught in Ed's throat.

It made sense, though, didn't it? Because Justin had told Ed weeks ago Roy was only there to force his hand, that he didn't care what Roy did beyond that- but Justin had already proven himself to be a goddamn liar. And if they'd made Ed use whatever _wrong_ array that was to end up here, then it only made sense for then to force Roy to do the same thing.

Roy was going to end up here, too... just like he was...

"Twice is exceedingly rare," Truth went on, waving a hand as if it couldn't care less about the horrifying revelation Ed had just had; Ed jumped again, barely able to focus on it past the roar in his head. "You were the first in a while to come running to meet me a second time. The last was several centuries ago, but I admit to arranging that one myself- her first toll was her sanity. Her second time through killed her..." Truth sighed sadly again, shaking its head in mock disappointment. "It was a shame, too. I rather liked her."

There was a chilling silence. Ed swallowed again.

"Her... toll?" he finally asked.

Truth smiled coldly.

"Yes, Edward. The toll." The thing paused, still watching him- and then, chillingly, smiled even broader than before. "That's what we've been dancing around this whole time, really. Humans arrogant enough to come to this place of knowledge and truth must be made to paid the price. Humans arrogant enough to delude themselves into thinking they have the power of a god- well, that _is_ why I am here, Edward." It spread its arms again, this time looking almost close to laughter. "If you come here seeking power, then I'll give it to you- I'll give you as much as you want. All you have to do, Edward, is just pay the right price."

Ed shook his head again; his mind was spinning, entire world reeling. This was all just too much to take in. It was more than Justin, more than that entire damn hospital, he'd understood that since the moment he'd landed here- but _more_ than that hospital did not make it _better,_ and it certainly didn't make it safer, either. At this point Ed almost would've been relieved for the chance to go back to his little padded cell, because at least _that_ was familiar, at least there he knew all the dangers; there was a sickening sort of safety in the familiarity of it all, but _here..._

That smiling thing could do absolutely anything it wanted to him, and Ed was so helpless here he couldn't even conceptualize what it was.

"I- look, you- you Truth _thing,"_ Ed gasped, scrubbing a trembling hand over his face desperately. "I didn't want to come here, okay? I have no idea what this place even _is,_ but they forced me to! I didn't have a choice! They're the ones behind it, not me!"

"Yes. I know, Edward."

"So- so why are you telling all this shit to _me?!"_ he shouted back, but still somehow just couldn't stop himself from shaking. "I don't want any knowledge or power or _whatever_ from you; if you're this all powerful god thing, then go take it out on them! They're the ones responsible here! Just let me go home; I don't want anything to do with you!"

"Yes, Edward, I _know_ you don't. I am, as you said, this all powerful god _thing._ I know. There's no need to shout it all at me as if I'm deaf," Truth drawled back, that creepy fucking ass smile still firmly in place. "That's what makes all of this so awfully disappointing to me. I absolutely love taking you arrogant humans down for size... and you, Edward, have been one of my most favorites. I could always count on you to come back for more, because as smart as you were you always still somehow thought yourself smarter than me- but this? As you are now?"

It felt as if Truth was looking him up and down, staring at him without eyes, and for the first time in this horrible meeting that cold smile started to slip, fading into something actually genuinely displeased. "There's nothing arrogant about the pathetic creature you've let yourself become now, Edward Elric. You're nothing. You're as pathetic as a human is meant to be- and I'm here to knock arrogant humans back down to their rightful places. You, Edward, are not one of them. You didn't even know what you were doing when you activated the circle. It's like punishing a baby who drops a gun and makes it fire, Edward. As much as it pains me to say it... there is nothing that I want from you."

Truth paused again, its slight grin returning. _"This_ time," it amended, a hint of laughter chasing the cold words after him, and Ed couldn't help but shiver again.

"Well... well- fucking great, then." Ed swallowed, inching himself away again. "That's just fantastic. I mean- you didn't have to call me pathetic, like five times, but- we understand each other, then. None of this was my fault. So just- take this all out on Justin," _and help me and Roy while we're at it,_ "and- and there we go, then. We'll be good."

Truth, however, did nothing.

This time, did not even smile.

Ed's own nervous grin started to slip away, something close to cold fear shivering in his hand again. "...well?" he prodded again, forging forwards as confidently as he could. "What're you waiting for?" he pressed- but he already knew in his heart what it was.

It was why he hadn't wanted to use that array, and it was why he'd known, even as he touched his hand to it, that it was the wrong choice.

"There's only one way out of here, Edward," Truth told him flatly, so flatly it hurt, and Ed's heart lurched again.

Only one way back home.

He knew what that meant.

Truth climbed to its feet, turning its back on him to leave him shaking on the floor, round- whatever it was. There was nothing here but an ever expanding whiteness, nowhere for him to run, nowhere for him to hide, but somehow now that he wasn't being stared at he was even more frightened than before. Somehow, like this, it felt even more obvious that even with that thing staring away from him there was nothing Ed could do to protect himself, that whatever horrible thing that was or whatever horrible place this was Ed was helpless here, and that _Truth_ could destroy him with a snap of its fingers and that was that. That was _it._ Ed may've felt powerless against Justin but this, here...

This was on a whole other level.

There was _nothing_ he could do here at all.

"Please don't kill me," he gasped out, the words suddenly spilling out of his mouth before he could stop them, before he could even _think-_ because it was all be ludicrous, wasn't it, trying to bargain with this creature, but he had to try, didn't he?! "Roy needs me! If you kill me, then they'll kill Roy, and I- please, just don't kill me! I'll- whatever you want, I don't care, but I-"

 _"Shhh,_ Edward," Truth snapped, flinging out a hand out to silence him; this time when his mouth snapped shut, Ed honestly didn't know if it was his own panic closing off the words in his throat, or if that creature had somehow forced the silence on him. Whatever it was, Ed found himself wordless, just crouching there on the floor and staring up helplessly as that thing stood there, back to him and head down- waiting.

Waiting, for Truth to make its move.

Until finally, it turned back around to look down at him as if a god staring down to a fly. Its wide, predatory grin was back, full force, and while Ed sat there frozen on the ground, its hand reached out the same way the rotting woman's always did, eerie fingers extended as if to take Ed b the hand.

"I think have an idea, Edward Elric," it said, and smiled wider than ever before.

* * *

 _"...he SURVIVED...?"_

 _"How is he alive?! He's not missing anything, is he?! I thought- is the array wrong? Or did he use it wrong?"_

 _"How is he still alive?!"_

 _..._

 _Where... am I...?_

 _"Take him back. So the experiment failed- that doesn't matter. Take him back."_

 _That white place... that thing... it's gone._

 _Am I... am I back?_

 _I can't... move..._

 _..._

 _"Take him back, and leave him there. Patients get forgotten about and die like that all the time- nobody'll think twice. And even if they do, it'll be too late to change anything."_

 _I- I can't..._

 _Where am I?_

 _Where's..._

 _..._

 _Someone's yelling. I can't hear... someone's yelling at me... why can't I hear? Why can't I move?_

 _Where am I?_

 _Someone's yelling..._

 _..._

 _"..metal..."_

 _"...to me... metal..."_

 _"...fullmetal..."_

 _..._

 _Fullmetal..._

 _That's...?_

 _"Fullmetal!"_

 _That's..._

 _"Fullmetal, please! Listen to me!"_

 _That's-_

 _"FULLMETAL, LISTEN TO ME! I'LL SAVE YOU! I'M COMING, I PROMISE! I'LL FIND A WAY TO SAVE YOU!"_

 _That's- that's-_

 ** _"FULLMETAL!"_**

 _Roy..._

Feeling flooded back into him in perfect timing with the padded door swinging shut, and Roy's final scream, still ringing in his ears.


	15. Chapter 15

Thank you all so much for reviewing! As promised- the rescue and/or escape attempt _now begins! :D_

Also, new cover art, by Akarri! Look at ittttttt! It's wonderful! (and miles better than the random stock screenshot I was using before). Thanks, Akarri!

* * *

 _"Fullmetal! FULLMETAL! FULLMETAL, PLE-"_

A hard first to the stomach cut off the scream mid-breath. It did not, however, stop Roy from fighting to get away with all his desperate, dying strength.

He'd _seen_ him! Right there! Fullmetal had been just _right there,_ he'd seen him past that door, limp in that man's arms as he was carried away, unmoving, his face slack and still- but he'd been right there! He'd been so close! He'd been so close Roy could almost have touched him-

 _He looked... dead._

-he'd been right there- he'd been-

"Shut _up!"_ The guard behind him hissed, hauling him back with arms around his elbows while the other looked about to hit him again.

 _He was so close!_

 _Fullmetall-_

"Stay still, you piece of shit," he was snapped at again, arms pulling him back no matter how hard he fought to get away, their grips unyielding and agonizing to his destroyed hands- he was right there-

Another glow glanced off his head, this time hard enough to drive him all but to his knees, gasping through clenched teeth and battling the urge to vomit.

 _So close... so close, so close, I was so close..._

 _Fullmetal, please..._

 _Please hang on..._

Out of the corner of his eye, Roy saw the door open again- that same one he'd just watched Ed be carried past, that same door that was between him and saving Ed. He jerked his head up desperately, already straining to get free again- but it wasn't Ed, this time. It was Justin. Justin, storming past with his coat billowing and his eyes half-mad with irritation, Justin who'd been the one hurting Ed this whole time-

He started to lunge for freedom again, just too stricken and horrified to care about his own safety any longer, but the arms behind him were already gripping tighter, the guards both stiffening in surprise. They hadn't expected the break in routine, either. "S-sir," the dark-skinned one stammered, though the tight as iron grip around his aching arm did not loosen. "We were- just-"

"Change of plans," Justin barked, slipping past without so much as _looking._ "I'm leaving for tonight. The dog can just disappoint and fail me again tomorrow."

Roy threw himself forwards again with an almost-roar, fighting with his bound hands to get free as the son of a bitch just stormed away, not once even casting a glance in his direction. _"Get back here!"_ he screamed. " _You- you- FULLMETAL-"_

Another door slammed, and Justin was gone.

Leaving Roy behind with the guards, alone again- and Fullmetal, still missing.

His stomach lurched violently with fear and anguish, and his mangled hands clenched so tightly he would've screamed, if he hadn't been so terrified.

This was the very first time he'd seen Ed in weeks, and he'd seen him like- like _that._ So limp and small he could've been dead, and if he wasn't dead already then he was certainly headed that way. Yes, on one level, he'd known this whole time Ed was being hurt and abused _(because of you, Roy, because of your FAILURES, you piece of shit)_ but to see the proof like this... laid out so undeniably in front of him...

Ed didn't have long. If they kept on hurting him this badly, then he did not have long to last, and that was a fact- if he wasn't already... wasn't already dead...

Roy swallowed hard, trying not to choke at that horrible prospect.

But it didn't matter- because either way, it was suddenly very abruptly, horribly clear, that his one reason not to fight back was gone. The only way they'd had to control him so far was whenever he'd misbehaved, they'd take it out on Ed- but they'd already long ago crossed that line.

Either Roy risked everything, and figured out some way to get Ed out of here, and get him out _now-_ or he was dead.

And if he looked at it that way, there was no risk at all.

 _I'm coming, Fullmetal._

 _I swear to god, I'm coming._

There were words over his head again, the guards discussing something over the screaming pain in his hands and beaten body and terror, then their rough grips hauling him off somewhere again; Roy processed none of it. All he knew- all he could feel, all he could see- was his array. The circle with the bloody salamander that had haunted him ever since he'd woken up in that padded cell.

All he could see was the array that had burned a country down.

The array he knew was _his._

He could do this. He had to. He had no choice.

His hands were rough and bleeding; both of them, fingertips constantly oozing blood from the fingernails being ripped off, the backs cut and bruised and raw, the palms leaking red from tiny cigarette burns and more bruises. Getting the blood wasn't even the problem; the problem was finding a clean enough surface on his hands to sketch the circle. With his hands cuffed in front of him, it was hard, so hard; he couldn't draw attention, could not _dare_ risk it, but at last he settled on the inside of his wrist, and there, he worked. He etched out the circle carefully, only glancing down towards his hands whenever he had to to still throw off suspicion. There, the second triangle... there, that little squiggle... and the salamander...

He didn't know how he knew he could do it, this time. Because he'd spent weeks failing to use that array for Justin, and he'd _wanted_ to make it work every time, he'd tried as hard as he could with every single reminder that his failures cost Ed, but it had never worked once. His only most pathetic successes were whenever the pain got to be too much, his mind would blank out, and the circle would just- spark by accident- spark and sputter but still, ultimately, fail, because he was a _failure_ and couldn't even protect Ed-

But he would do it this time. He knew, somehow, deep in his soul, that he could do it.

If he'd destroyed a nation with this array, then he could save a child.

 _You've done it before, Roy- whether you remember it or not._

 _Do it again._

 _One more time._

The guards forced him forwards again; some small part of him recognized it as the room with the ice baths, but he didn't care anymore. He was simply waiting- waiting for the perfect chance to use his array. If he always got the most success with Justin's in the worst moments of panic, pain, and fear? Then fine; he'd wait for that now. He'd tolerate whatever it took.

"You're not getting off easy today, _Flame,"_ the dark-skinned one spat, hand wavering dangerously close to smacking at the back of his head; he flinched on instinct, but this time, no blow came. "Don't worry- we'll keep you right on schedule," he went on, and once upon a time those words would've made something in him shiver, because he knew what he meant, and he _didn't want to._ He was exhausted and fucking tired and terrified of his head being shoved through that water until he drowned- but he no longer cared.

There wasn't any punishment they could promise that would stop him from doing this.

They shoved him onto his knees again and he crumpled down without protest or even the strength to stop it. Then there were hands at the back of his neck, shoving his head down too and before he knew it he was underwater, coughing and gagging and body trying to fight on instinct-

But this time, he had something to fight _for._

He waited, thumb hovering over the array.

He waited, as the hands pinned him down, and the oxygen ran out.

He waited, until every beat of his heart was fueled on dying panic alone, and the same terror and light-headed agony that he'd grown so familiar with started to overtake him in one fell swoop.

And then, Roy pressed his thumb to the edge of the circle, gasped in a breath, and _fought_.

And just like that, it was over.

The guards' hands were gone, and all the pressure on his back and neck keeping him under the water vanished- and Roy found himself throwing himself up out of the water like a suffocating fish gasping for life.

There was instant noise behind him, the rush of alchemy that had sparked through his wrist fading away with the shock of the surprise as his bound hands started to fall apart. Instantly he pressed his thumb to the array again, panic pounding through his heart as he desperately threw himself back into the array, breathing in the memory of fire and _begging_ for it to work, this was all he had, this was his one and final chance, this was for Ed, it _had to work-_

Nothing happened.

Oh, the array worked. He _felt_ it work. Finally, for the very first time, he felt that euphoric rush Ed had told him about so many weeks ago; he felt it sizzle into his skin as alchemy sparked on his fingertips, and he knew it was working.

And yet, as he knelt there, head down and shoulders shaking, curled with the sheer terror of _what if you failed this time, Roy, what if you failed AGAIN-_

Nothing happened.

Nothing at all.

The guards were just... gone.

Several shocked moments passed, Roy kneeling there frozen in disbelief, and everything else in the room completely still and silent.

Finally, shakily, Roy jerked himself around, keeping his hands pressed together to active the transmutation at the very first sign that it was needed. Each breath was short and stricken as he panted and knelt there, eyes darting wildly around the room as he flattened himself back, ready to lash out and defend himself once again...

But there was nothing to defend against.

The two guards were all slumped on the ground, utterly motionless but entirely uninjured. One was facedown, looking as if he hadn't even tried to brace his fall; the other, he could at least catch a glimpse of his face...

Roy gasped.

He didn't look unconscious.

His red eyes, open wide and staring, perfectly blank, perfectly... empty...

He looked dead.

Slowly, Roy looked down at the bloody circle on his hand, stunned, then turned back towards the guards.

Feeling, hesitantly, for their pulses confirmed it: each one was dead.

Horrified, he took a step back, then another, and another, withdrawing until he was pressed back against the wall again. He stared down at his hand, at the deadly circle he'd been counting on, suddenly sickened by it. What had he done? What had he _done?_ He hadn't meant to kill them... even if he'd surely had every right, by now... but he hadn't meant this. He'd just wanted to hurt them. Hurt, wound, incapacitate, yes... but _kill_ them? And like _that?_ So quickly and effortlessly... it'd barely taken him any strength at all- but in a split second, so quickly they couldn't even try to defend themselves or even see it coming, they'd died.

What _was_ this thing? Alchemy, Ed called it, _alchemy..._ and even after all the doctor forced them do with it, Ed had still sworn he liked it. Roy had told him the truth, he'd told him he thought it was bad, _wrong-_ but Ed had thought it was a good thing. He hated making the gold here, but he swore it could be good. But Roy... Roy got the feeling he'd never liked using it, period, not here, not anywhere else, not before any of this. And that circle on his hand... how natural it had felt, how emblazoned into his memory it was, what it had _done..._ how could alchemy be anything but _wrong?_

How could he have done this?

" _Sir, how exactly is THIS the secret to flame alchemy? You didn't make any flames at all. Nothing even happened."_

" _No, no, no! You're not understanding, Hawkeye!" Ecstatic, relieved, joyful, amazed... "Something DID happen, you just didn't see it!"_

" _Sir..."_

" _Any idiot with a matchbox can make fire, Hawkeye. That's not the secret to flame alchemy, that's the secret to arson. No, the secret is CONTROLLING it. Oxygen! The key is oxygen! And I just controlled it!"_

The circle gleamed in his mind again. The bloody circle. The salamander. _Fire._

" _It's oxygen, Hawkeye! That's what the array does! Oxygen!"_

Fire... and oxygen.

Roy stared down at the circle again, reeling.

That was it. He'd controlled the oxygen. By the looks of it... had stolen every ounce of oxygen from their bodies. They'd died before they'd even hit the floor- suffocated in a room full of air.

Roy slowly dropped down to his knees, staring down at the nearest guard, his open, _dead_ red eyes. His stomach flipped, entire body shivering with something he couldn't quite identify, and for just a moment, he found himself too overwhelmed to even think. His cold, aching, bleeding hands reached forward of their own accord, the handcuffs clinking gently as he forced himself to move for his pocket, searching for the keys he knew were there, and above all trying to clear his head, trying not to think...

His eyes shot, unbidden, towards the dead's man face again.

This time, his world twisted, and he saw ( _remembered)_ it half melted with his own fires, and frozen in a rictus of dying agony.

He threw himself around just in time to vomit all over the floor, the keys clutched in his shaking hands.

 _You did that. You did that. You don't remember how, but it was YOU. You killed people, just like this- and you're doing it again. You're doing it again right now._

 _Can you really say you don't deserve everything they've done to you here?_

 _Can you REALLY say that, Roy?!_

Slowly, Roy lowered his head again, forcing his mind to clear and slumping against the cold floor as he took in a deep, meant to be calming sort of breath.

It didn't matter.

What he'd just done, and what he'd done in the past- whether he had deserved all of this or not- didn't matter.

Because Ed didn't have any other choice, and only one thing mattered to him, now: getting Ed, and getting the hell out of here.

And if he had to take that deadly circle on his hand and slaughter the entire hospital to do it, then he would.

The first step was back out into the hallway, the hallway which was now deserted, the keys still clenched tightly as a knife in one bleeding fist while his other hand stayed pressed against the array, ready to use it at the slightest provocation. His heart was pounding with both exhilaration and something close to panic as he turned straight back down to where he'd just managed to glimpse Ed before. He knew he had a couple of minutes, at least; Justin had already left, and his own guards were... not going to be intervening... but Ed's guards were still loose, and Roy would much rather avoid a fight with them than put his array to the test a second time.

Shaking his head vigorously, Roy took off down the hallway at a half-run, breaking past the first door and turning instantly in the direction Ed had vanished to. Thank god, there was only one choice of a door to head through, so he barged through that one too, thumb pressed to his array- but the new hall was just as deserted as the last one. Scowling, Roy narrowed his eyes as he glanced up and down it, searching for some sign, _any_ sign of where they'd taken Ed-

His heart skipped a beat.

This hallway...

He _knew_ this hallway.

This...

This was the place they'd taken him, so long ago.

The hall with the padded cells.

His jaw tensed.

 _Those... monsters..._

His worst fears had been true. After everything Ed had already been through- after they'd already stuffed him in one of these before and all but thrown away the key- they'd put him back in one. And Roy had the instant realization that it could be his _fault-_ because they'd told him weeks ago they were trying to separate them, that could've been why- but it could've just as easily been what Justin had said, couldn't it? Justin had told him Ed would be the one to pay the price for his constant failure to work his god damn array. He'd promised it daily, promised it every single time he'd pressed his hands down but _nothing_ had happened-

This could've been that punishment.

This, too, could've been his fault.

Roy swallowed hard, pushing down the bile in his throat, and again violently forced that into the back of his mind

 _You can apologize later._

 _Now, you just have to find him._

He lurched desperately down the hall, starting with a door at sheer random and forcing the key into it until he could shove it open. Nothing. Next one. He swallowed, mouth dry as he fought the urge to scream out Fullmetal's name; the walls were heavily soundproofed, and even if they weren't, something told him shouting his head off right now was a patently _terrible_ idea. If Ed was even awake to answer him- because Roy had seen him just minutes before, and he _hadn't_ been awake then, just slumped into a dead faint, or, or-

 _Not worse, he was still alive, Roy, he HAS to still be alive-_

Nothing in the second cell, either. Another panicked breath left him as he lunged for the third locked door, wrestling desperately to get it open; oh, god, there were at least a dozen doors in this hallway alone, he was running out of time, where was he, where _was_ he? He had to be here! He had to _find him!_ "Come on," he muttered frantically, the key scraping and fighting him over and over, "come on, come on, _damn it-"_

The door gave way just as his patience was about to break and Roy pushed through the third door just as quickly as he had the last two.

And this time, he finally struck gold.

Fullmetal.

It was a tiny padded cell, the exact same way as he'd remembered it, except part of him swore this one was even _smaller_ than the one they'd left him in. And there, slumped on his side all the way across the room, his eyes shut, and his hair spilling across his face but Roy could see it just faintly shifting with each breath, was Fullmetal.

He was there.

And he was alive.

Relief expanded desperately in his heart, and for the first time in weeks, Roy found himself smiling.

He was here, and he was alive.

Roy strode across the cell in three shaking steps, the keys barely clasped in limp fingers as he dropped to his knees in front of him. "Fullmetal," he gasped hoarsely, one trembling, aching hand reaching forward to brush against his face. He barely had the sensation to tell anymore but he thought the skin seemed cold, too cold, and Roy found himself reaching forward with his other arm, gently lifting Ed's limp form off the floor and shaking him, just a little. "Fullmetal, it's me. It's Roy."

For several unbearable seconds, he got no response.

Then, just as Roy started to lift his bloody hand to his face again, two glazed, pained eyes cracked open.

Again, for several unbearable seconds, Ed just stared at him.

 _Please remember me... please know who I am... they can't have hurt you this badly, Fullmetal, please- it's all my fault, I'm so sorry, please, please, remember me..._

Ed blinked blearily. Then finally- _finally-_ his mouth slipped into a tiny, trembling smile.

"I knew it," he breathed, voice cracking. "I... I knew you'd show up."

Something in Roy's heart clenched.

Ed had trusted him.

After all this time... after so much of this being his fault...

Ed had still trusted him.

He swallowed thickly, lip trembling just a bit, and before he knew what he was really doing had slid his heavy, aching arms back tightly around Ed and pulled him to his chest. "I'm sorry it took so long," he whispered back, and would've been embarrassed to say his voice was just as unsteady as Ed's if there'd still been any pride left in him to break. "I... g-guess I got a little lost on the way."

 _I'm sorry it took me so long, Fullmetal._

 _I'm so, so sorry._

He felt more than saw Ed take in a deep, shuddering breath against his shoulder. For several seconds, it was just that; just Ed trembling against him, cold and hurt in ways Roy didn't want to even think about, but alive and _safe_ now; he was going to see to that if it killed him. The apologies stuck in his throat; the apologies for hurting him, the apologies for failing him, the apologies for whatever he'd done to hurt him before this place, but somehow he couldn't say them now, couldn't do anything but just sit there and hold him as Ed shook and wordlessly promise him that it was over, now- that he'd protect him with his very life.

Finally, it was Ed who managed to pull himself together enough to break the silence.

"G-get this shit off me," he whispered again, pressing his head back into Roy's shoulder.

Roy swallowed tightly again, nodding. He tightened his arms around him for one senseless moments, then forced himself to lean back, holding Ed out at arm's length. "Of course." He broke eye contact, somehow feeling too guilty to really look at him as he started all but attacking the straitjacket, jerking at the straps to forcibly loosen them and just wanting to see it as far away from Ed as he could get it. It took him a minute- too long- and by the way Ed couldn't even look down at it it was too long for him, too, but he finally managed to loosen it enough to be able to just rip it away, throwing it violently over his shoulder to leave Ed sitting there before him, blinking, shaking, entirely overwhelmed- but free.

Free, Roy was sure, for the first time in weeks.

"It's okay," he promised shakily again, lowering his bleeding hands down onto his shoulders. "I- I _promise,_ Fullmetal. It's going to be okay, now."

Ed stared up at him with wide eyes, face almost blank, gaze almost unseeing as he blinked and said nothing. He shook his head for several moments, disbelieving, finally murmuring, "He said you'd... c-come back, but I thought..." Another weak, overwhelmed smile wavered into place. "I can't believe you're actually... here."

Roy frowned briefly, still holding him by his shoulders. Ed's words didn't make much sense, but after god only knew how many hours he'd spent trapped in this room, in that _fucking_ straitjacket, could he really blame him for being a little disoriented? He'd be better once he'd managed to get him out of his godforsaken hospital and somewhere actually safe, surely. He shook himself, trying to ground himself once again, then just tightened his grip on Ed's shoulders no matter the pain.

 _Yeah. I am here, Fullmetal._

 _And I'm not going to ever let you go again, this time._

* * *

After a too-short, anguishing heartbeat, Ed finally felt Roy draw away a little, the look on his face saying that he clearly did not want to but that they were far past the point of being able to take such a luxury now. "Come on," Roy insisted, voice forcibly gruff probably to try and cover the soft quaver in it as he helped him up to stand. "I took out my guards, but I don't know where yours are. We've got a couple hours until rounds again, though, so they won't realize we're missing for a while- but we need to get going as soon as possible."

Ed shrugged reluctantly, wishing he could help but, just like Roy, he hadn't even been able to leave the room without being under strict guard in weeks. He had no idea where his guards ended up, when not manhandling him around. He hopped a little closer to Roy, wrapping his arm more securely around his not at all for balance any more but just to be closer to him, to know this was real and he wasn't going away. "We've gotta find mine, too, bastard," he croaked. "You know we can't screw this up." He hesitated, glancing up anxiously as Roy gently continued to lead him to the door, letting him slowly gain his balance back as he stood for the first time in weeks. "How _did_ you get away, anyway?" he breathed. Roy had to have been restricted just as much as him. Sure, he had the extra two limbs to help, but still...

To his surprise, however, Roy did not jump to explain whatever near impossible thing he'd done to earn his own freedom. Rather, he drew to an uncertain halt by the door, steps suddenly faltering and features shadowing. "I..." He looked away, drawing in on himself. "...doesn't matter."

"...Bastard?"

Pale and shadowed, the older man just shook his head, breathing out heavily. "Come on," he insisted again, lowering his voice. "Let's just get out of here, okay? All you have to know is if they find us before we find them, I can protect you. That's all." He looked down at Ed, the dark look in his eyes overwritten by a protective, almost possessive sort of light, and gripped his arm even tighter.

If the circumstances had been different, Ed might've pushed him further- but as it was now, he was just too relieved to be able to see and speak to him again to care. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he nodded, drawing even closer to his side. Roy was right. It wasn't important now. All that mattered was getting free.

Roy led the way, taking him carefully out into the hallway. With a finger to his lips, the older man pointed down to the right, the opposite way that they'd always taken him, and with a shaky nod, Ed followed him. It was an exhilarating, amazing sort of rush, so potent he almost wanted to cry. He hadn't even been able to be on his own feet in weeks, never mind be able to choose where to go! A swell of affection grew inside of him and he had to push back the emotion-stricken urge to just throw his arm around Roy in gratitude and never let go. _Time for that later, Ed,_ he told himself, shaking his head. _Right now we've got a jailbreak to attend to._

Together, they crept silently down towards the what they had identified as the staff break room so many weeks ago, in their very first attempts at scouting this place out to try and find a way to freedom. With another finger to his lips, Roy gestured for him to follow and leaned carefully up against the door, pressing his ear to the wood.

"...what's up with him. Today was just... off."

"Whatever it is, I hope it's back to normal tomorrow. That was just... unsettling."

Ed exchanged another anxious, worried look with Roy. They both tensed.

They'd found the guards.

"I know- and speaking of back to normal, where are the others? Shouldn't they have finished Mustang by now? I know they usually take extra long to deal with him, but- it's been an awful long time, hasn't it?"

"Don't worry, they're probably slacking off. Hang on, I'll go check- I mean, it's not as if there's any other explanation. There's no way Mustang actually got _free_." There was a quite, annoyingly smug shared chuckle, the scrape of a chair on the tile flooring- and then, footsteps...

Blinking, Ed jerked back away from the doorway, alarm spiking through him as he looked back up at Roy. The older man looked startled too, almost apprehensive, almost as if he'd been expecting to avoid another fight and wasn't at all ready now that they were about to be discovered- Ed tugged on his sleeve, getting him to move back, then gesturing at the door with a tilt of his head. He grinned.

Roy watched him for a moment, eyes wide... then, realized.

He grinned right back, and got into position with him.

They waited together, listening intently for the sounds of the footsteps as they drew nearer and nearer. Finally, the door knob started to turn, and the heavy door began to swing open...

To be promptly met by Ed and Roy, heaving it back with every ounce of their strength to slam into the guard's face.

The moment the plaster smashed against their target, garnering a shocked, pained groan and cry, Roy didn't even hesitate. He shot around the corner with a battle shout, lunging into the room so quick Ed was almost off-balanced by the sudden lack of support- not to mention the betrayal. _You're not doing this alone, you prick! Wait for me!_

Ed threw himself past the threshold jerking into the room to find Roy already embroiled in a brawl with the last two people standing between them and freedom. With a snarl, Ed jumped onto the back of the only one he could reach, locking an arm around his throat and a leg around his chest. He used his weight to yank the man back from Roy, tearing and scratching at everything within his grasp until he started to pound on his head, bringing his fist down as hard and fast as he could. "You fucking ass, _get out of our way!_ " he screeched, pounding on him again. _"Get the fuck out of our way!"_

The asshole- the guard who was also extra rough with the straitjacket, Ed remembered with a stab of vengeance-induced pleasure- evidently did not have a head made of steel. It only took five well placed, enraged hits to get him to stagger, dropping like a stone to his knees, and one more for good measure to knock him flat on his stomach.

Ed then promptly hit him again, knocking him around the head so hard it nearly wrenched his arm out of the socket to do it.

"Fucking _asshole,"_ he hissed, and finally leaned back, lowering his bleeding knuckles to the floor.

Across the room, Roy was staring at him openly, eyes wide- his own opponent dangling limply, passed out as well, shirt fisted in the older man's hand the only thing keeping him in the air. Roy himself, panting a little but seeming no worse for wear, just gaped at him. "Where'd you learn how to do _that?"_ he finally breathed, straightening a little but not releasing his attacker.

Ed snorted. "What, just because I've only got two limbs means I can't hold my own in a fight?"

"...Uh... pretty much. Yeah."

"Oh, just shut up, bastard!" He wrenched himself off the man's back to lean against the wall, making a show of relaxing and coming _this_ close to sticking his tongue out. "No one fucking _asked_ you your opinion anyway. But close your mouth. Unless you wanna still be standing there staring when these two come back around."

Roy blinked, as if only just remembering their dire predicament, then coughed and nodded. "I... right. Of course." He rubbed carefully at once arm, making a face, then heaved his load over onto a nearby chair with one hand and grimaced heavily, and knelt in from of him, digging through the pockets. "Search them," he ordered, but his voice was just a little rough, and he rubbed irritably at his arm again. "We'll need everything we can find."

Ed frowned, glaring over at him and making no move to jump to follow his command. "You okay?" he pressed, glancing anxiously to the slightly awkward angle Roy was still holding his arm at. On one hand, if _Roy_ had gotten hurt while Ed, two limbs and all, had held his own, he was never going to let him live it down- but on the other, more serious, note, this was really the absolute _last_ thing they needed right now. "Bastard, you-"

"I'm fine," Roy cut him off shortly, already digging through his target's pockets. "And even if I'm not, I really don't see how we have time to deal with it now, Fullmetal. We need to get out of here, first, okay? Everything else we'll have to deal with later."

Ed grimaced reluctantly- but the bastard _did h_ ave a point, no matter how much he didn't like it. Roy was obviously injured anyway- Ed was already trying pretty hard _not_ to look at his hands- and Ed really did not want to think about his own state, right now; there was probably a hell of a lot wrong with the both of them-

But the bastard was right. That didn't matter right now.

All that mattered was getting out of here.

Together, they made short order of freeing their two _former_ guards of their keys, handcuffs, and anything at all that could be used as a weapon. Next to him, Roy filched a pocket knife out of the jacket of one, flicked it open, then shrugged and tucked it away in his own clothes. "Could be handy," he commented dryly, glancing at Ed.

Ed shook his head instantly. "Yeah, uh, you keep that. If I tried to stab someone, I'd probably just overbalance and fall over."

Roy snickered. "Good point." He brushed his hands off, looking over the two unconscious guards again, then grimaced. "All right. Before we tie this lot up, then..." He tugged on the nurse's uniform, starting to work it over the limp man's head.

Ed started, then grinned as he got it. It _would_ potentially make things easier, if they were dressed as staff rather than patients, to break out of here... just so long as they didn't run into that god dammed doctor. "Good thinking, bastard," he muttered, and started procuring his own set of clothes.

Dressed anew, Ed stood there for several moments, just staring down at himself. Then, flushing furiously, he tentatively raised his eyes to look across the room at Roy- currently too busy with smirking up a storm to do much else.

Because there Roy was. Without knowing any better, Ed would've guessed him a nurse, not a captive patient aiming to break free. Dressed in pale blue scrubs, one hundred percent confident, and with an easygoing air that sold the facade perfectly.

And, there Ed was.

Shirt, dangling somewhere down close to his knees. Pants, two bottom inches at _least_ tripping up under his toes.

His cheeks warmed further, and Roy, for his part, looked so infuriatingly amused Ed actually wanted to hit him.

"...Shut up."

"My god, Fullmetal." Roy rubbed his face with a trembling, bloody hand that left behind a wet, red smear, looking as if he was trying very hard not to burst out laughing at the sight. "I mean, really. Why must you be so _small?"_

"I- _I'm not small!"_

Roy raised an eyebrow.

"...You're all just freakishly big- I- you _shut up!"_

The older man chuckled for a moment, but let it pass quickly, since they really weren't in a situation to take time and laugh here. "You'd better change back, Fullmetal," he said, gesturing at the pile of clothes on the floor. "It's for the best, anyway, really. You probably wouldn't pass for a nurse, with a missing arm and leg."

Ed winced. The truth behind the words hurt a hell of a lot more than it probably should've, especially since Roy really hadn't intended it as an insult... but he was right. What use would he really be, to anyone, without an arm and a leg? What use would he be to his Al? He really was just a cripple... all this time, Roy had been carrying his weight- _literally-_ this poor kid, unable to help himself...

He sighed, shutting his eyes for a breath. No. There wasn't time for this. He had to believe his Al was out there somewhere, waiting for him- all four limbs or not. He _had_ to fight his way out to him- had to stand up with Roy and walk out of this hell, no matter how hard it was or how useless he felt. He had to do this.

With a heavy heart, fetching his earlier, abandoned clothes off the floor, he glanced for a moment at the man he'd stolen them from. Unconscious. Beaten down by his own hand.

Roy's shocked stare flickered through his mind again, and, briefly, Ed really let himself smile.

 _I'm not useless._

With a long sigh, Ed tugged on the hospital shirt over his head again, wincing briefly at the feel of the thin, flimsy cloth against his skin. "I miss real clothes," he sighed, dragging himself back around to Roy, who was busying himself cuffing the guards. Hearing it aloud, it sounded just like a whine, especially after all the absolutely _worse_ shit they'd gone through here- but he really, forlornly, meant it. He was so sick and tired of hospital- everything. Hospital beds, hospital rules, hospital clothes, hospital food...

Whether he remembered a thing or not, he knew, very well, that he missed his real life dearly.

It had sounded like a whine, but the smile Roy gave him was grim with emotion and real with its honesty. "When we get out of here, Fullmetal?" he promised, taking his arm with a warm and secure grip. "We'll go shopping. We'll eat real food- Xingese spicy shit, so spicy it feels like you're eating goddammed fire- and then I'll buy you all the real clothes you want. If you want damn leather pants, Fullmetal, you can have them."

His heart thudded with warm, painful affection again. "And then, we'll go looking together. I'll find my Al, then help you find your blue." He smiled fiercely, promise reverberating in every syllable.

"Fullmetal..." Roy's face shadowed again, the older man glancing away as he helped Ed further down the empty hall, shoulders slumping a little. "Be reasonable. It's going to be a lot easier for you to find someone named Al than it will be for me to find..." He trailed off into a helpless, frustrated sort of shrug. "- _my_ blue." He sighed again. "You really shouldn't concern yourself... just find Al, and-"

"Idiot." Ed rolled his eyes, wishing Roy's arm wasn't the only thing holding him upright so he could punch him for this. "You're the one who's getting us out of here. So I damn well am gonna return the favor, and make _sure_ you find your stupid blue. Okay? You _will_ find it- we'll look together until you do." He cracked a half-smile, glaring at the idiot bastard until he was sure his words had driven home. "Equivalent exchange, right?"

They both slowed to a halt to stare at each other, wide-eyed. Roy blinked, head cocking to the side as his eyes dimmed, going distant with recognition. Ed stiffened in familiarity, the words ringing in his ears and tasting like sweet honey on his tongue.

Then, with a forced shake of his head and a fierce grin, he gripped Roy's arm tighter, and nudged him along another step. "And we're gonna figure out why that phrase was familiar to both of us. But we can't do that until we get out of here. So let's get going, bastard. To Al, and blue."

Roy grinned back.

"To Al and blue," he agreed, and led the way again.

As Ed had hoped, the night shift had left the place abandoned. Them being the only two patients- inmates- whatever it was that they were- the only staff in this wing had been the ones there to guard them. Half of them were currently unconscious and tied up, and the other half... however they had been detained, Roy had told him not to worry, so he wouldn't. But aside from those four, it appeared that they were well and truly alone here as they crept to safety, and snuck to freedom.

When they turned the last corner, and there it was, that precious door that had guarded them for months, a flimsy little barrier between them and the world that had stood for all this time- and suddenly that was all it was, just a _door_ for them to pass through, Ed almost wanted to cry. The quick, ragged intake of breath next to him told him the sight had stricken Roy just as much as him, and he nearly buckled, swallowing hard. This was really it. There was nothing stopping them. They were going to do it. They were going to be _free-_ they were- they were going _home!_

 _Home._

His heart hammering in anguished desire in his chest, Ed pulled even closer to Roy's side, and the older man wrapped his fingers even tighter around his, and they both took off together in the closest thing they could get to a run.

All too soon it was there, right there in front of them, so close he could touch it, and he did. He threw himself away from Roy and up against it, clutching at the knob like that would make it open as the man searched desperately on his stolen keys, looking for one that would set them free. He itched to get out of here, suddenly shaking and gasping and simply _unable to bear it_ now that they were so close, just inches away. He heard Roy shaking, too, the keys clinking together as he jammed one after another in the lock, yanking desperately to turn them until one finally did, and with a strangled sort of gasp he pulled it free and shoved the door open.

And there it was. Freedom.

Just like that.

Ed froze, staring out over the threshold. His heart thudded painfully, squeezing up into his throat. There it was. A hallway just like this one, long and white and plain. A sign overheard, labelling where they were now as _Psychiatric Ward- Secure Wing._ A few shut doors.

But it was unspeakably different, because it was _free._

Next to him, Roy's fingers wrapped warmly and securely around his own. They squeezed tightly, and without even looking, Ed pressed his arm against his, moving until he was so close he could feel the other man breathe.

"Together," he whispered, nearly choking on wet, frantic emotion.

Roy squeezed tighter, and together, they went.

And together, they then dropped.

Ed clutched onto him as his leg went out, grabbing onto his arm for dear life with a strangled shout. Roy took a dive beside him, his knees buckling, scrambling to grab onto the wall with his free hand but ultimately failing to hit the floor right next to him. "Holy fucking- oh my god-" Ed wrenched backwards, dragging Roy with him to writhe on the floor, gasping through clenched teeth.

It felt like someone had just set his back on fire.

A horrified, agonized look in Roy's direction told him the older man was in the same state he was. Hunched over and gasping, almost more shocked than in pain... when he regained the wherewithal to speak, Ed grabbed him by the arm again, fingernails digging desperately into his skin. "You felt that, too?"

After several seconds, Roy nodded, releasing another ragged breath. "Y-yeah. My back. The second we stepped over the doorway... my back just..."

He trailed off into silence, dark eyes widening like he'd just been slapped across the face. He jerked around to stare at Ed, abruptly frozen with horror. "The tattoos," he whispered.

Ed gasped.

The tattoos on their backs.

"The... the words on the tattoos..." Roy pulled back an inch, looking between him and the doorway that might as well be lava to them. "They talked about locks, and keys..." His dark eyes focused on the doorway again, and after a stunned beat of silence, they both paled.

"This is the door." Ed inched a hand forward, carefully stopping just short of the invisible barrier between them and freedom. "Somehow, the tattoos are tied to it. They're... they're locking us in here." He swallowed, drawing backwards and moving closer to Roy, lifting his new shirt up enough to see. Sure enough, the skin around the tattoo was red and inflamed, the black lines of ink spiraling over his back like an exotic death sentence. "Yeah... it's the tattoo, all right." He let the shirt drop shakily and sat back limply, suddenly drained of everything but the numb pit of horror, sinking into the base of his stomach.

The tattoo, and whatever they'd done to the doorway, was enough.

They couldn't cross it.

Suddenly, Roy's hand was on his again, tight and unyielding. "What'll happen if we cross it anyway?" he pressed, making as if to stand. He glared over at the door, at the invisible alchemy that kept them imprisoned. "Sure, it's supposed to keep us in here... but what if we just walk straight past it?"

Ed groaned, rubbing his hand over his face without even really considering the question at first. "I really don't know any more than you, bastard. I don't remember anything about alchemy. Quit asking me- hey, wait...!"

But Roy was already turning, pulling away from him into a crouch just an inch away from the door. "This is our only option. We don't have time to try and figure out a way past this door and there isn't another way out. Fullmetal, if we don't leave _now,_ when Justin comes back in the morning..."

He shuddered violently, fading into a sickened silence at the very idea of the torture that would be waiting for them. "This is our only option," he finished quietly. "It's all we have."

"But it could kill us!"

"Staying here _will_ kill us!" Roy shot back, abruptly loud and insistent again. "We don't have any other choice." He pulled away from Ed's hand, squaring his shoulders to face the invisible barrier without even a hint of fear. "I'm going to cross it. Either it kills me- a better fate than waiting for the morning, I'd say- or, we can escape. This is our only choice, and I'm taking it."

"But..." Ed swallowed hard, the idea of this just... _no._ "But, bastard, if... if it kills you..."

If it killed him, Ed would be left sitting here alone. Certain death if he fled, and certain torture if he stayed... and this time, he would not survive it.

Because he'd be alone.

If it killed him, Ed would be left sitting here alone... across from his _corpse._

He-

He couldn't.

He just _couldn't._

And Roy, evidently, realized it too, because the light of determination faded away into shared misery and guilt. He moved back from the deadly barrier, staring down at him in a black storm of hesitation and... fear. Yes, fear.

Fear for himself, that he was about to die...

And fear for him.

Fear for what would happen to him, if this ended badly.

"Fullmetal," he said quietly. "I know it isn't fair of me to ask you to sit here and watch me do this. I know if it... if it kills me... I know I'll be leaving you here alone and that isn't right. But... this is our only shot, Fullmetal." His voice started to go thick, to shake and crack under desperation's weight, and he put a hand on Ed's again to grip it tightly. "If this doesn't work, there is no other way. Do you understand me? I _have_ to try. If this is our one chance to get home then I have to take it!"

"Then let me go with you!" He gripped Roy's hand back and yanked him back away from the barrier with it, just those few inches inbetween him and the doorway enough to terrify him. "If it really ends here, then we go together, bastard. None of this alone bullshit. We go together." And his voice was strong and steady, but god he didn't know how or why- because this frightened him beyond anything ever before. He didn't want to die. As horrific as it was here... as synonymous with hell as it was... as much as he _hated_ it... he didn't want to die.

He wanted to get out of here. He wanted to find Al, and for Roy to find his blue. He wanted to see the sun again, to go god dammed clothes shopping with this moron next to him and show him the countryside he dreamed of and see the people he _knew_ Roy would remember and go _home._

But if he could not do that, then... then he would take this.

Dying with Roy, and not sitting back to watch him die alone, and be left behind.

Roy shut his eyes for a brief moment, cold arm perfectly still under Ed's. His features were drawn and shadowed, shoulders slumped with sorrow and regret. "I'm sorry," he whispered, dark eyes still shut. "I'm sorry. But if you're with me, I can't do it."

The quiet confession rang sickly on the air, and Roy bowed his head. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter in contrition, apology, fingers suddenly trembling. "If you're with me... Fullmetal, I can't cross that line knowing I might be condemning you to die as I do it." He swallowed, throat jumping, driving gaze lifting to stare at him past his hair to ground him in place with its sincerity. "I'm sorry. I know it's ridiculous and unfair of me to ever ask this of you. If we can't cross that line, then we're dead either way... and dying now is better than waiting to do it at their hands. I know it's not fair for me to ask you to watch me die. ...But I can't do this if you're with me. I'm sorry, Fullmetal. But I _can't."_

Very deliberately, Roy removed his arm from Ed's grip and turned, rising to his feet to face the barrier alone. "Please," he whispered, eyes shut again. "Promise me you won't follow until I say it's okay. Promise me. ...I don't want you to follow me into hell, Fullmetal."

He was shaking, Ed realized.

Terrified to death at the idea of him crossing that line to die with him.

He closed his own eyes as well, and dropped miserably back against the wall in silent defeat.

There was no other way.

Very hesitantly, Ed reached over to touch his hand. He couldn't look at him, innately sick and terrified that this would be the last time. He struggled to clear his throat, the growing tightness there desperately trying to keep him silent. "You know that if this doesn't work, I'm dead anyway, bastard."

The quiet, strangled sort of mumble that answered him was barely a _yes_ , but he took it anyway. Anguished as it was, he doubted Roy had the words to answer him. "If... if this kills you..." Agony stole his breath away and he clenched his eyes shut, biting his tongue until he could speak again. "I'll go down fighting. I'll take as many of them with me as I can. I _swear."_

It wasn't a question of revenge. It wasn't a question of justice, because for what those monsters had done to them there was none.

It was simply that if Ed was going to sit here, and watch Roy die... if his Al, and Roy's blue, really were to be taken from them, _forever..._

 _I won't let this end peacefully. It won't end peacefully for us, and I won't let it for them._

 _I'll see them suffer, before it's done._

 _I'll make them suffer for Roy._

Roy simply smiled.

"Give them hell for me, Fullmetal," he murmured.

Then, he was facing the line again, and Ed with him: one, ready to march to his death, the other, steeling himself to watch the only thing he had in this world die.

"See you on the other side," Roy said quietly to him, "...one way or the other."

He stepped over the line.


	16. Chapter 16

Thank you all so much for reviewing! Now, here we are- the escape, part two of two! I have a bad cold, so, to be honest, did not proofread one last time before I posted it... sorry ;-; I promise I'll be back on my game soon!

* * *

Once again, Ed found himself wishing for both his arms.

This time, not for any practical reason, like managing as a capable, functioning adult instead of a cripple, or just to be able to rub his face and scratch his nose while holding on to Roy to walk, or just for the simple fucking fact that he was a human being and meant to have _two arms_ and not just one.

This time, he wanted it so he could properly cover his ears, and block out the screams.

He couldn't look any more. He'd watched Roy drop to his knees, hunching forwards to let out an unearthly howl the split second he'd crossed that line. He'd watched the man drag himself past it anyway, inching across the floor in a pitiful, agonized journey to huddle up in on himself and scream. He'd watched him curl up on himself, cry out in agony, and bleed.

He couldn't look anymore.

But he could still hear, and hear, he did. Turned violently away, arm wrapped as tight as it would go around himself and head buried in his knee, he still heard.

Heard every, _single,_ wretched whine, strangled cry, and anguished shout of pain.

He sounded like he was dying.

"Please," Ed whispered. "...Please."

It was too soft to be heard underneath the screams, the muffled, weak croak against his knee, and he crumpled in on himself with a strangled sob.

"Please don't leave me here alone!"

" _Ahh... h-hah- ahhh- AHHH-_ _ **AHHHHHHHHH!"**_

Ed choked again.

 _Please..._

Roy screamed until he ran out of breath; writhed and kicked until he ran out of strength. He fought until all he could do was just lie there, and try not to die- and Ed kept himself firmly turned away, eyes shut and wishing dearly he could even just cut his own ears off, because even that would be better than hearing this.

For a while, that was all there was.

Ragged, hitched breathing behind him, and Ed... praying.

 _Please._

 _Please. If there is any kind of god at all... benevolent, malevolent, some neutral asshole just watching as we spiral into destruction, I don't care- just please, god. If anyone can hear me, please._

 _Please don't let him die._

But in the end, there was no god. There was just him and Roy, and no one could help them but themselves. And in the end, the one to reach out to him wasn't a god...

Because that cold hand that finally landed on his side was shaking, human, and very much alive.

Ed froze.

"Hey," Roy rasped from behind him, and let out something that just might've been a laugh.

Breath caught painfully in his lungs, hardly daring to believe it, Ed spun around.

Roy lay there just across the barrier, still splayed uncomfortably on his side, and by the puddle of the blood growing underneath him, not doing well at all. But he was _alive._ Alive and smiling, _smiling_ at him, a weak struggling like smirk as he dropped his hand tiredly back to the floor, sweat shining on his face and exhaustion shadowing his eyes and pain etched into every line of his face, but- _but-_

"I'm still alive," he coughed dryly, and smirked again.

For a moment, Ed was too stunned to do anything at all.

Then, joy blossomed in his chest like a warm flower, and it was all he could do to not just start crying here and now.

" _Bastard!"_

"Yep," he chuckled again, "still here." He winced, dragging his gaze away from him as he struggled to sit up; lean gingerly against the wall. Every single inch of motion made him grit his teeth or gasp, and by the blood smearing in his wake, Ed could only guess the tattoo on his back had been torn or burned straight off. The very idea of it made him gulp and he pulled an inch back away from the line, suddenly acutely aware of the ink besmirching his own skin.

As if noticing his reaction, Roy suddenly grew more stoic, the pain mostly washing away from his drained face as he inched up a little more against the wall, clearly forcing another smile. "So I guess it doesn't kill us." He shuddered through another wave of pain but somehow managed to keep his smile on the whole time. "Come on." He held out a trembling hand, gesturing for Ed to join him. "Come on, Fullmetal. Let's get out of here."

And once again, Ed just... froze.

...What?

Just- crawl over that line, and join him?

That simple, was it?

"No," he blurted out, before his head could catch up with his mouth.

Roy stopped, his smile slipping. "...What?"

Ed find himself balking, swallowing hard as terror swept through him from head to toe. "I just- I mean-" He inched away again, mouth abruptly dry as a bone. "We can- find another way, can't we? We can look around, there's got to be _something_ else- or we- I don't have to go _right_ now, really, bastard, we can try and figure out another way first- we just-"

"Fullmetal."

Suddenly, Roy was there again, pale hand touching his but the man still not moving back over the line with him. Ed stared at it instead of his face, heart pounding so hard he felt abruptly sick. "Fullmetal," he said again, pulling just enough to coax him forwards. "It'll be all right."

He swallowed again, but his throat was so dry and his nerves so frayed he wanted to throw up. "I... I know that. ...I'm just saying- I-..."

How was he supposed to just... do it?

When he'd seen what he'd done to Roy...

It made him a pathetic coward, he knew that.

But he _did not want_ to do it.

"Don't worry," he heard, and he'd never understand how even then Roy somehow managed to sound steady and unafraid. "You'll make it. You can _do this,_ Fullmetal." The assurance barely touched him underneath the roiling terror, and Roy tried again, slipping even closer to him over the blood. "Nothing's going to go wrong."

"...You don't know that." He shut his eyes, shuddering. Because Roy _didn't_ know that. Roy had barely made it through at all- what if it was worse for him?! What if-

"I do, Fullmetal. Because if something tries to go wrong, I won't let it."

A startled, terrified sort of hysterical laugh ripped its way out of his throat- because it was impossibly ridiculous. What the hell was Roy going to do, if he was bleeding and yelling on the floor and something went _wrong?_ Just sit there and _not let it?_ "You're an arrogant idiot," he choked, shaking.

"And you have to trust me."

Terror rolled through him again- terror, alongside just a hint of the tingling agony that was soon to light up in his back.

"Fullmetal, _please."_ Roy reached even further over the line, stretching his arm as far as it would go- for _him._ "You have to do this. I know it'll hurt and I'm _sorry,_ but you have to. You have to! _Please!"_ Strong, steady fingers curled warmly around his shoulder, edging him just a little closer, and for a moment the shadow of physical pain was erased, overtaken by distraught regret as Roy begged him to lower himself into hell. "Come on, Fullmetal. Come on, just a little bit more. You've survived until so long, you made it through this place on your own, you've done so much- you can't just give up now! You have to keep going- just a little more! Come on, you promised me you'd help me find my blue. You can't do that from over there, Fullmetal!"

His grip tightened and Ed gasped reflexively, desperately wishing to shrink back but too frozen to do it. Roy's impassioned pleas stuck like lead in his gut, the call back to the easily given promise that suddenly felt like a lifetime ago too much to take. When he'd made that promise it had been nothing... of _course_ he would help Roy find his home; they'd find Al and blue _together,_ he could no sooner leave Roy to look by himself than he could forget about Al- but that had been when the only standing between them and that future had been a doorway.

Not... this.

 _I can't... oh god, I can't..._

"Fullmetal." Terrified desperation drove home, and his gaze was jerked right off the bloody floor to meet Roy's again. Roy, who look absolutely, utterly horrified with himself with what he was asking him to do- but was still doing it. He was still in pain, cold sweat trickling down his face and his fingers trembling with something far more base than fear, barely with the strength to remain upright but there he still was. Hand held out, fingers outstretched, and dark, strained eyes pleading with him to do this.

"Don't leave me here, bastard."

He hadn't meant to say it aloud. Hadn't even really thought it, but that terror was still _there_ and he shut his eyes at the vocal realization of it, heart stabbed with anguished fear that nearly killed him.

 _Oh, god, don't leave me here alone._

Roy didn't even hesitate.

"Never."

And that was what did it.

Because it wasn't a lie. Roy would stay here with him for as long as this took- the man could get up and leave right now, never look back, and find his blue- but he'd stay here in this hellish prison, for him. He'd _stay._ And if Ed couldn't do it... if he just _couldn't_ drag himself over that line... Roy would still stay. He'd come back here, join him, and they'd find another way.

He wouldn't leave him, no matter what.

Somehow, that was enough.

Ed looked into Roy's eyes, held out his hand, and allowed himself to be pulled towards freedom, Al, and Roy's arms.

* * *

The sounds coming out of his mouth were not screams.

Choked whimpers of agony, yes. Muffled, bursted cries born in fear and nourished in despair. Gasps of failing strength. Anguished whines. Heartwrenching, whispered wails.

But he didn't scream, because first and foremost, the kid was a stubborn brat, and just simply wouldn't let himself.

Roy thought he would've preferred if he had.

At least then, he wouldn't be faced with the heartbreaking sight of him trying so hard, even now, to stay strong, when he just had nothing left to stay strong for.

It was hard to move at all, but he'd somehow pulled himself over to where he'd collapsed, a slumped and writhing mass on the blood sticky floor. The kid wasn't aware of him at all; surely beyond reason at this point, but Roy hadn't been able to just sit there silently and _watch_ him suffer- he had no idea how Ed had done it when their positions had been swapped. But it didn't matter how Ed had done it; all that mattered was that Roy didn't have to.

He'd weakly hauled the kid into his lap, and there he lay still now, curled up and trembling. His long hair hid his face, head pressed against his stomach just hard enough to tear at his newly ruined back but he didn't have the heart to pull away. A fist bunched in his pant leg and Ed clenched a wad of his shirt between his teeth, likely not even aware of it beyond that it gave him something to bite down on and desperately control the pain. Hand shaking, Roy swallowed the frantic sorrow welling in his throat as he risked reaching down to Ed's shirt, lifting it up just enough to for him to see.

His jaw clenched.

The tattoo was being burned off.

It was just what he'd feared... but in a way, even worse.

Because while their brands were technically the same size... Ed was much smaller than he was.

While Roy's injuries stretched over made a quarter, surely less than half of his back, Ed's were going to cover all of his.

Another terrified shout of pain sent pure misery down his spine like knives, and Roy shut his eyes and let the kid's shirt back down.

"Shh," he whispered, helpless, useless. He rubbed his tense, shaking arm gently, painstakingly careful not to stray too near his shoulder; the tattoo reached up even that high. "It's okay, Fullmetal. Just a little longer."

He gasped and shook, blood weeping from the newly sizzling skin, and said nothing.

There was nothing Roy could do except let himself be held on to. So he just sat there, held him steady, and hoped that it would be enough. He kept on rubbing his arm, trying to ease away the tension until the inevitable spasms racked through him again, cries torn from his lips and body jerking miserably in his lap. "It's okay," he whispered again, stroking his hair helplessly. "It's okay... you're okay."

It might've been awkward, it might've once felt wrong, but this was all he _had._ He had to give something; couldn't stand to just sit here and watch, but he felt so ineffectual and worthless, just holding him like this and whispering words that meant nothing, but...

It was all he had.

It was another strangled sort of cry against his stomach, a horrendous, wailing thing, and Roy's heart clenched, anguish stabbing him through the gut. He so gingerly moved Ed even closer, letting him clutch on to his shirt and bury his head against his stomach, hot blood trailing down to stain his pants and searing into his soul. He felt like some kind of monster, dragging him forwards to face this, and bowed his head, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Please," he whispered, palm resting soothingly- he hoped- on the back of his head. "Please just hang on."

He held Ed steady, steady as he could. With every spasm he kept him still, with every shout he shushed him. He sat there and held Ed close and waited... and with every miserable gasp of pain, his own breaths hitched, and his heart constricted in agonized sorrow.

It took minutes. Long, horrible minutes, and he felt each individual second, how long they took to tick by and how many times Ed cried out in the otherwise strangling quiet. He counted each hard fought breath and felt each scream, torn out against his abdomen. It took so long he almost died himself, scarcely breathing and unable to even move, save for the hand gently mussing his hair...

But finally, the worst of the agony passed.

He didn't realize it at first. Ed remained collapsed over his legs, and if any move was made to withdraw from pillowing his head against his stomach, it was too weak to see. But at some point, Roy realized his breaths were exhausted rather than strained and miserable, and the previous muffled cries had faded into slow, intermittent whimpers.

"Fullmetal?" he whispered, fingers slowing in his hair.

Ed didn't react for several moments, horribly still and only moving for each careful, measured breath. At last, Roy felt him breathe out harshly against him, fingers clutching just a hint tighter against his pants. "I'm tired," came the exhausted, agonized mumble.

Roy went still, his heart falling.

The burns were massive. Again, most technically, his wounds were the same size as Ed's- but he was much bigger than Ed. It felt worse to Ed than him... and Ed had also lost more blood than him.

A lot more.

"...I know," he whispered, and shut his eyes. It was just a second too late, to stop something warm and wet from trailing down his cheek.

Ed didn't move or speak again. Roy took a moment and just let himself be inundated in grief, crushed down with the devastation and exhaustion that this wasn't the end yet, that they still had to keep fighting, because _god_ he just wanted it to be over. If it hadn't been for Ed, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to even make himself get up at all.

But Ed was there, and he needed him.

"Fullmetal," he said again, and when his voice shuddered and tried to crack he just took a breath and forced it steady. He gripped his hand, holding it as tightly as he could. "I'm going to help you onto my back. All you have to do is hold on. Can you do that? Do you think you can do that?"

Ed tensed, trying to curl up until the tiny motion made him gasp with the pain. "Bastard..." he tried, half-lidded eyes struggling open.

"We're getting out of here, Fullmetal- right now. I promise."

He moaned again, heavy head falling slack against his leg. "Can't... c-can't walk..."

"I know." Forgoing getting an answer for his question, Roy very gingerly began to shift, trying to keep Ed as still as possible as he maneuvered around so the kid was lying on the floor at his back. "I'll walk for you, but you have to get on my back. Just wrap your arm around me and hold on, okay? Don't worry about the rest."

Ed somehow roused a little, lifting his head up of the bloody floor to stare at him with wide, horrified eyes. "N-no..." he rasped, reaching out a trembling hand. "It'll... it'll hurt you..."

"...Yeah. It will." Because what was the point in lying, when Ed would know what the truth was? "So, when we're out of here, and you've found Al, I'll be sure to show you my scars and say, 'here. This one's cause of you'. But first, we have to get out of here. And this is the only way for that, Fullmetal."

He hesitated for a few moments longer, still curled up and miserable on the ground, but Roy had held his voice steady and painless and, the fact that he was above all else, right, was finally enough to convince him. Very slowly, each move punctuated with sharp gasps or cries of pain, Ed managed to work himself up to sit. His hand was hesitant at first as it found his shoulder, shaking and barely touching, but as he wrapped his arm around his neck his grip slowly tightened... though it was only too plain to see how the kid was still leaning back away from him.

Precariously touching any part of his burned back.

Well, Ed was just going to have to get over it, he thought firmly as he grabbed the kid's arm, holding him there tightly, took a deep breath, and stood up.

Oh, _hell._

For a moment, his own pain eclipsed everything else. His vision went white and his knees nearly buckled, gut rising up and leaving him in a struggle just to keep his stomach contents where they belonged. Ed had been forced to cling to him, hold on tight or just drop off and hit the ground so he'd clutched on- and _fucking hell_ , a kid latched on like glue to the deep burns spread over his back had to have been some of the worst pain he'd ever experienced in his life.

Ed whimpered quietly by his ear, fingers digging so deeply into his shoulder his fingernails scratched, and Roy shut his eyes, took another deep breath, and forced himself steady.

"...You okay?" he managed in a whisper, when he'd finally regained his voice.

Ed mumbled something incoherently, still clinging to him desperately. His one leg lifted, wrapping around his stomach for another grip to keep himself holding on, and Roy winced, wishing there was any other way. But then Ed managed to raise his head up off his shoulder, just a bit, and rasp, "H-how come... you can stand... and I can't?"

His heart shuddered again, and the blood soaking into his clothes, some his, most of it Ed's, suddenly felt very, very cold.

"Because you're shorter," he rasped, with a smile he didn't feel and a squeeze to his hand that he did, and turned and walked straight out of the prison.

They may not have known anything beyond the little psychiatric ward they'd been imprisoned in for so long, but even in his current state it was easy enough for Roy to stumble through the hallway and make it, finally, down to the stairs. He paused, both for breath and for the chance to try and figure out his location, and started to read the list that spelled out all the floors in the building.

 _0: Morgue_

 _1: Admissions_

 _2: Cardiology_

 _3: Psychiatric..._

He scowled, still breathing hard. So this actually was a hospital, then. And according to this, on the third floor... damn.

So their escape was only halfway begun.

Roy took another ragged breath, struggling to keep his head clear, then just shook himself and headed for the stairs. His body cried out to just go to the god damn elevator, but his instincts screamed even louder that it wasn't safe. They had to avoid as many people as possible. If anyone saw them... if that _doctor_ saw them...

The scratched array on the palm of his hand tingled, and in that moment, Roy swore that if anyone tried to stand between him, Ed, and freedom, he would use that monster again, and kill them.

Roy would never understand how he made it down the stairs without toppling. He didn't remember much of the journey later, surely a good thing; by the time he reached the first floor he was a panting, sweaty mess, knees quaking and barely able to remain on his feet. But freedom beckoned and called, a beautiful blue freedom where Al was, so he sagged against the wall only for as long as he had to, fighting desperately to steady out his breathing again... and the moment it was, he powered through the door.

He froze.

People. People everywhere.

In reality, it was a big room and only sparsely populated, surely a function of the late hour, but after months of tiny cramped spaces and every single person's existence aside from Ed's dedicated to keep him trapped and hurt, he just- he _panicked._ He stumbled a step back, driven to run or at least press himself back against the wall and hide, but he could do neither. There were so many people milling about, all dressed as doctors or nurses- and it was so _loud-_

And there, across the room, was the front door.

Roy's breath caught in his chest.

There it was. Just... right there. Unguarded. Not even locked. Just right there. Just a room away...

Through the glass, for the first time he could ever remember seeing it, was the night sky.

His heart abruptly swelled, and he felt so light on his feet he could've flown.

Panic was beaten back by pure, unadulterated desire.

"Fullmetal," he whispered, unable to help himself. His voice rose in childish excitement and he squeezed his hand again, nearly trembling in amazement. "Fullmetal, look!"

When the high-pitched intake of breath rasped by his ear, the kid reflexively gripping him so tight he might've screamed if he hadn't been so joyful, he knew he'd seen it, too.

Roy gripped his hand again, yanking himself to stand upright no matter the pain and facing freedom with everything that he had. The space before him might as well have been a minefield but he'd march straight through, face it like the soldier he felt like and charge to bring this boy on his back home. To bring _himself_ home. "We're getting out of here," he promised, whether to himself or Ed, he didn't know, and began to move.

His stride was straight and confident, heavy deadweight on his screaming back or no. His heart hammered eagerly in his chest, nearly strangling him in its desperation. So close, so close... he veered right, taking them away from a gaggle of nurses that sent his pulse skyrocketing again, then back onto his original path. It was so close. He could almost taste the fresh air, the freedom. Right there- he could _almost reach it-_

A nurse stepped right in front of his path.

It was sheer instinct to veer away. To press his thumb even closer to the circle. To hold Ed tighter.

But when he tried to step towards their freedom again, the nurse followed him.

 _No._

 _NO._

His thumb inched even closer to his circle, and he sucked in a breath, preparing to activate it.

 _I will kill you before you touch us._

But she didn't move to touch them, instead just frowning at them both with a wary, guarded sort of frown, one that radiated suspicion and left Roy's insides twisting off into knots. No. Was she really such a fool as to test him? He'd killed those guards in his room in an instant. Tied down to a bed, drugged and beaten, only the freedom to press his thumb to his palm- and he'd slaughtered them all without breaking a sweat. He'd kill her. If she so much as _looked_ at Ed the wrong way, he'd-

"Sir, why are you _carrying_ a patient? And you need to change, immediately." One manicured nail pointed at him up and down, judgmental reproach contorting her stern features. "You know it's not protocol to walk around covered in blood... What did you even do to get in such a mess, anyway?"

For a moment, murmured underneath the black fury and terror coursing through him like ice, Roy was stunned. Well. Excuse him for daring to bleed from his injuries. He supposed he should've just stitched them close himself, then? And never mind that; _this_ was what she chose to comment on? Clandestine jailbreak, the both of them probably bleeding to death- and oh, the most crucial thing to comment on here was _protocol?_

Then, he realized.

His clothes.

He was dressed as a nurse.

 _She doesn't realize..._

He might've laughed with giddy relief, had he not still been so terrified and strained and such a precious weight hadn't been on his back. She thought he was a nurse. She thought the blood was someone else's. She thought he was carrying Ed- dressed as a patient- back to his room... not right out the front door.

She had no idea who they were.

His thumb remained precariously close to the circle, and he still remained prepared to strike the very moment it was deemed necessary.

 _But I can talk my way out of this. I have to try, at least._

The sight of those three guards, dead before they'd even realized, flickered through his mind again, and he swallowed.

 _I have to try._

"I'm sorry," he intoned, very stiffly, and felt Ed tense against him. Desperately, he tried to convey his intentions with just another squeeze of his hand. _Please stay quiet. Please just stay still and trust me. I promise, I won't let them get to you again._ "I was going to change after I delivered this patient back to his room. He's... not especially a fan of wheelchairs."

Well, it was true.

However, the woman appeared decidedly unimpressed by that answer, because she frowned at him again, glower darkening. "It doesn't matter whether he's a fan or not; we can't go around giving _piggyback rides_ to patients. This isn't a playground." Her eyes narrowed again, radiating suspicion and reproach still, and this time, the finger point was behind him, to a nearby wheelchair. "Go put him down."

Ed tensed again.

"...Bastard," he whimpered against his neck, too quiet for the nurse to hear- just loud enough to send an anguished dagger of rage piercing straight down into his heart.

He sounded terrified.

 _I swear, Fullmetal._

 _I will never let anyone touch you again._

"I said," he hissed through clenched teeth, "he doesn't like wheelchairs."

The nurse stared at him incredulously, as if stunned by his audacity. Roy refused to move; refused to so much as give an inch to her glare. All he could see in his head was the look on Ed's face, the first time he'd realized how much it meant to the kid to be able to stand up and walk around under his own power.

He wasn't about to take that away from him now.

Not when they were so. damn. _close._

When he still did not even move, the nurse glowered again, turning as if to go fetch the damn thing herself. "He can not like him as much as he wants. He's using one. And as for you-"

Roy stopped her with a hand to the wrist so tight she flinched.

"I am going to give you two options here. You have ten seconds to decide which you prefer." He would've balked at removing the cautious hand Ed's leg was hooked around, but the kid was clinging to him so tightly it hardly mattered- and banking on instinct alone, he raised his pale hand, palm up, and turned it so she could see the blood scratched array.

The color drained from her face.

And Roy, the fact that his power could inspire such terror chilling him to his core, forged onwards- the only thing that he knew being Ed's arm around him, and his head resting against his shoulder, shaking and terrified.

"Option one: you allow us to leave, with no further upset. I will take my friend, and you will never see me again. A caveat: this is the option we would _both_ prefer. I have no interest in harming you- but take me at my word when I say that I will if I have to." He flexed his hand again, feeling the scratches tingle, alchemy already eager in his blood again.

"Option two," he murmured quietly, and inched his thumb closer to the array.

She gulped and took a tiny step back.

He didn't want to hurt her. He could see her terrified eyes flick to Ed, knew that to her eyes, he was a monster trying to kidnap an injured child right out of his hospital bed- but little did she know he wasn't the monster, here. And there was no time, not anymore. He _could not_ take even the slightest risk of failing. If they were caught now- if they were found out now-

He remembered being bound to a hospital bed, given barely even the freedom to flex his fingers. Day in, day out, chained hand and foot like an animal, dragged to be forced into work like a slave and punished like a disobedient beast. He remembered that dead, soulless look in Ed's eyes... that lost stare with no hope.

He'd kill himself before he let anyone take him back there.

He'd kill _her_ if she even tried to take Ed back there.

"Decide," he hissed, and tensed his hand.

Her dark, terrified eyes found Ed again...

And this time, he saw in her what her decision was going to be before she ever even moved.

 _Please._

 _Please, please, please, you're my alchemy whether I remember you or not, I learned you once, I mastered you, so please listen to me and don't kill her. Please just move her out of our way._

 _Please!_

His thumb touched the circle.

This time, Roy didn't trust the alchemy to work for him. This time he chased the energy, following it through the lines he'd carved in his flesh and chasing it as it turned from an electrical crackle of blue light in his skin to a tunnel of oxygen in the air. He chased it there, following it at lightning speed as it snaked through the air and he glared at her throat, staring hard as he ordered his alchemy _go there. Stop her. Stop her but don't kill her. Stop her, stop her, stop her stop her stop-_

The woman collapsed.

Choking, gasping, scrabbling for air, hands scratching at her throat and chest...

but alive.

She was still alive.

Roy took off running.

He heard shouts after him but the words faded into a blur, nothing existing except for Ed clinging to him and his own pounding heart. His back screamed for respite and how he stayed on his feet, he'd never know- but he just _ran,_ sprinting away as fast as his legs would carry him. Sprinting for home.

Their first breath of fresh air that they could ever remember was not the victorious, rejoicing moment it should've been. The moment they hit the open air Roy kept on running, turning down the sidewalk to pound over the pavement, anywhere that was _away_ from here. There were still people behind him, shouting for him to stop, and as long as they were still being chased he'd run. He'd run to hell if that was what it took; they weren't _ever_ getting their hands on Ed again.

Roy swerved and ducked into the nearest alley he could find, throwing himself out of the yellow glow of street lamps to bury himself against the wall. The ground was laden with trash and refuse but he didn't care; he just sunk deeper into it. With the utmost care, he shifted around to pull Ed off his back, holding the kid to his chest as he pressed his own bloody back against the wall. "Shh," he whispered, though he hadn't said a word. "Wait a moment. _Shh..._ it'll be okay, Fullmetal. I promise."

Ed clung to him even tighter, fist shaking in his shirt, but he obeyed, and did not speak.

Roy swallowed, heart clenching, and prepared to use his alchemy again.

But no one came for them.

No one ever came.

Still he waited, frozen in the dark and the cold, heart pounding in terror as he waited for the inevitable discovery. For the doctor to come around the corner, smiling, and say, _Find you._ For the guards they'd left alive to come and restrain them both, drag them back kicking and screaming to slowly die as little more than animals. To be found with this struggling, agonized child rasping against his chest, helpless to do anything but hold him and touch that circle and _pray_ it worked...

He waited, and no one ever came.

At last, still sweating and shaking, Ed held tightly against him, heart pounding but finally beginning to ease, he realized it:

They were free.

The idea was a curious thing, something so magnanimous it had been dreamed and idolized for so long, idealized and glorified... but now here it was, right at his feet. Here they were. Sitting together and alone in a trash covered, rancid alley, rats skittering about at his feet and blood soaking through his front and his back. It was dark and cold, overcast, the moon that he'd never seen but believed to be true shadowed by drifting clouds, the air not a refreshing breeze but instead a cold blast that made him shiver and hunch every too often time it came. Ed was trembling, in cold or pain or blood loss or... whatever it was, it wasn't good. He was shaking, too, and couldn't seem to stop. He was exhausted and in pain and losing blood fast. It was the middle of the night, they had no idea where they were, they had no money, and looking the way they were, anyone who saw them would drag them straight back to the hospital.

He was also so happy and overwhelmed his heart was about to burst.

"Fullmetal," he called gently, touching him on the shoulder again. His voice was shaking; nearly vibrating with joy. "Look. We did it. ...We're safe."

Even as far gone as he was, Ed heard him. He jerked a little in his lap, bloodshot eyes widening as he looked around the dirty alley. His fist, previously clenching so tight in his shirt it had nearly worn a hole in it, slackened, falling limp with the sheer shock of it.

"It's... horrid."

Roy barked out a harsh, broken sort of laugh. "I know."

"It's..." Slowly, Ed let his head back down again, now turning back over so his eyes gazed up to the sky. His tender back now rested, surely painfully, against his knee, but if Ed felt it, he didn't even whimper. "...It's beautiful."

"I know." His voice cracked, and he, too, tilted his head back up to look at the sky. And it was. It was beautiful.

 _So beautiful._

His hand fell, landing gently on ed's shoulder. He rubbed it carefully, trying to impart some sense of comfort, safety. "We should go," he murmured, though with no move made to rise.

Ed didn't move, either. "I'm tired," he said again, gazing blearily up at the clouds. It was an eerie reminder of those same words before, just inches away from their prison as they'd been, but this time Roy agreed with him. The boneless, dragging sort of exhaustion that tugged him down like a leaden blanket... the way the stones around him suddenly looked so succulently soft, better than any pillow to rest upon...

He'd lost blood, too, after all.

Lots of it.

"Can I sleep?" Ed asked meekly, and god that request, so tired and innocent... "Please?" He turned closer to him, side of his head pressing into his stomach and hand landing on his leg. "I'm tired. I'm... I'm so tired, bastard."

It broke his heart to shake his head, even as his mind begged him to agree. "We can't sleep yet. We sleep here, we'll die. We've got to move."

"...But I... I can't anymore..."

Roy shook his head again, tears of born of exhaustion and his own pain and most of all denying this miserable, drained kid even this much. "We've got to. Al's out there somewhere, Fullmetal, remember? Remember Al?" He rubbed his shoulder again, desperately trying to wake both himself and the kid up. "He's probably looking for you. We've got to go find him. We can sleep then, we just- we have to go find him. Please, Fullmetal. I'll carry you again," god knew how he would when he felt so gone, so empty, but he _would,_ "but we've got to go. We have to. Come on, please. Please, do this. This one last thing. It's the last thing, I promise."

He was babbling and knew it. Couldn't stop, either. The words spilled pathetically out of his mouth and he held Ed again, heart aching, _pleading_ with the poor kid to just get up and manage just a little more.

Because if they went to sleep here, Roy knew, there'd be no waking up.

At last Ed looked at him again, but he could see so clearly by the glazed sort of stare he wasn't present, not really. "How we supposed to find him?" he mumbled, defeated and broken. "We... we don't know where... I wanna sleep, bastard." He shut his eyes again, jaw clenching. "I... Al..."

Stricken, Roy leaned back against the wall, battling his own sorrow. Ed was right. They had nowhere to go. Even if Al was here... wherever here was... they'd never find him.

But they _had_ to do something...

Then, Roy remembered.

Very slowly, like a force other than his own will was guiding his hand, he reached down to his pocket, and withdrew the stolen pocket knife.

He looked at it.

Then, he smiled.

"Fullmetal." Pocket knife held in one sweat slick hand, he shook his shoulder again with the other. Probably too roughly, for his injured back. "Fullmetal, I know where to go."

Exhausted eyes slitted open to blink at him, hazy and miserable. "...Wuzzat?"

"I know where to go." Emboldened again, somehow, amazingly, he grasped Ed again. The kid surely didn't have the strength to hold on now, so he just lifted him up into his arms. Everything felt numb and tingly, even so his back still cried out desperately in retaliation, but he marched forward, unquestioningly following the instinct that drove him out of the alley, then said, _turn right._

The knife weighed reassuringly in his hand, and, though he had no idea how, he knew.

He knew where home was.

"I know where home is," he whispered and allowed, looked at the knife again, and let it guide him home.

Home, as it turned out, was an apartment building. He stared at it from outside, at the white walls and the well groomed grass, the pretty trim. Shook his head. There was no spark of familarity that he'd hoped for... nothing that screamed out _me! Me! Pick me! This is home!..._ no burst of recognition...

Another glance at the cold knife, and he nodded, satisfied.

He may not remember anything else, but it was here. It had to be.

The door was locked, but that was okay. He shifted Ed carefully, ramming his elbow into the glass without pause and not even feeling the rain of glass shards around him; he saw the blood drip from his arm and without it, wouldn't have even known he was injured. He reached inside and fumbled his way in.

The knife, warm and lovely in his hand, told him _upstairs._

Upstairs. Of course he'd have the bloody stupid sense to pick an apartment _upstairs._ He sighed, trudging up and away. Ed rolled a little in his arms, breathing shallowly, and for a split second, Roy wondered just how comfortable the stairs would be, if he just sank down here and now and slept.

The knife told him forwards. He went forwards. The knife told him right. He went right. Then the knife told him to stop, and he did. He looked up.

He was here.

Once again, he felt nothing.

But he knew it... he _knew..._ that this was it. Somehow he knew. This was home.

So, heart in his throat, Roy shifted his hand forwards, and tried to open the door.

It was locked.

...

It was still locked, when he half-heartedly tried again several seconds later, stunned and almost disbelieving that this was the case.

It wouldn't open.

After several shocked, impossible moments, Roy's legs gave out on him.

He fell against the door, held up only by the smooth wooden surface. Ed was gripped so tightly against his chest there was no danger of him falling as he raised his other hand to palm the door, almost scratching like a cat begging to be let in. "I really..." Emotion welled in his throat and he crumpled against the door, chest tight. Crestfallen, he let his hand slip; it was only by some measure of a miracle that his legs didn't follow it and send them both to the floor. "I really thought... this was it..."

This had to be it. Because if it wasn't... there was nowhere else. There was nowhere else for them to go. If it wasn't here...

He couldn't do this anymore.

Even with Ed in his arms, even knowing they _had_ to keep moving above all else- he just couldn't. He was tired and alone and in pain, and so cold, and he simply didn't have the strength. He was alone in a vast world of infinite paths all shrouded in darkness and he couldn't find the right one. There was at once everywhere and nowhere to go, because if this wasn't Al, if this wasn't his blue...

They had nowhere. Nothing.

Ed's head leaned against his chest, fingers tugging weakly at his collar. "I'm really tired, bastard," he said again, and this time it was just a hazy whisper, half-lidded eyes gazing blindly through him. "I'm... can we stop, now? Please?"

His heart trapped itself uncomfortably in his throat.

"...Yeah, Fullmetal." He brought his hand one last time against the door, hitting it out of defeat rather than frustration. "We can stop."

There was nothing for them.

He was simply too tired, and had just nothing left to give anymore. He'd spent it all up and now there was nothing.

They were going to die here.

Roy looked down at the shattered boy in his arms, heart torn neatly in two, and found himself thankful that he'd at least been able to get Ed away from there, to die as a free man instead of a prisoner.

"I'm sorry I couldn't do more," he whispered, holding him even tighter against his chest, hands scrabbling for purchase over his blood soaked back, but it didn't matter.

Ed was asleep, and wouldn't be waking again.

"I'm so sorry it wasn't enough." He pressed his forehead to Ed's, something warm, wet, and agonizing streaking down his face until he choked over a sob. "I'm so sorry, Fullmetal."

He slipped until he was curled against the wall, left his arms around Ed, and waited for the end.

It was some time later, he'd never know how much, that the door opened.

It was a man. Looking just roused from sleep, one hand rubbing at his eyes, mouth open mid-yawn. It was a man. Roy didn't know him. He almost felt like his heart wanted to throb and dance at the sight, almost felt _something,_ but he did not know him and he lay still instead, supported only by the wall at his back.

The man, meanwhile, just stood there and gaped at the sight of him.

"...Did I do it?" Roy asked quietly, but he didn't even dare to hope. Not this time. "Is this... is this home?"

The man remained frozen and silent.

He held Ed a little closer to him, heart aching again.

"...Please?" he asked, and it might've been him begging.

Please. Please tell him he hadn't failed.

Suddenly, the man was there, kneeling in front of him. Hands reached out and Roy only knew to pull away, arms wrapped protectively around Ed. He sagged in relief when the man didn't yank them apart, but still held him close, heart quaking in terror at how close he was and how easily he could take Ed. "Wait," he gasped, or maybe he just thought it; he barely had the breath to speak, "wait, please-"

"Holy hell. I- oh my _god-"_ The man froze, still reaching for him, something akin to horror on his face, then twisted around, back to the apartment. _"Gracia!"_ he screamed. " _Gracia, call an ambulance! NOW!"_

Roy froze.

Ambulance...?

 _Hospital._

"No," he croaked on a breath, and held Ed even tighter.

The man wasn't safe.

The man was one of _them._

"No," he whispered again, this time in horrified denial.

The man turned back to him again, reaching forwards until Roy flinched away. He looked panicked and terrified, voice shuddering with strain. "Don't worry, we're getting you some help, okay? You'll be fine, just-"

" _No."_ He would've scrabbled away on the floor if he'd had the strength, just gripped Ed close when he did not. "No, don't- _please..._ " He couldn't. Oh, god, he couldn't. They couldn't go back there. If they were sent back there... he couldn't do this anymore...

"No," he cried again, but it was a broken plea before a demand. "Please don't do this to us. Please. I'll give anything... _please..._ please don't take him..."

The man stared at him worriedly, green eyes swamped with fear and concern, and his hand was shaking as he was reached for yet again. "Hey, it's okay," he tried to caution, quieter now, gentler now. "You're safe now..."

Safe. _Safe._ He couldn't do this- couldn't take that away, not after he'd fought for so hard and so long to make it here- they couldn't be sent back there. This couldn't be happening. Oh god, no. "Please!" he begged, squeezing Ed to his chest again, but he knew he was powerless to stop him. He was drained and exhausted and hurt and dying, could hardly move save for the agony to breathe... he couldn't stop him. He couldn't do anything except sit here and let it happen.

Something deep in him broke.

"Please." He turned away, cradling Ed between himself and the wall, protecting him the only way he had left. "Please just leave him. Please don't do this to him. You can take me back." He didn't even know what he was saying, could barely hear the words, lurching and broken, over the horrified devastation welling inside him; just talked and cried and begged, gasping for Ed to be left alone. "You can take me back. I swear I won't fight you, I'll do whatever you want, I'll never run again just don't do this to him! Don't hurt him! He doesn't deserve this... please don't hurt him, just let him go, _please..._ he's just a kid..." _just... he's just mine, he is MY kid and you can't hurt him, you can't take him from me, you can't do this, "please..."_

He'd done this. He'd ruined him. He should've listened to Ed, but no; instead he'd dragged him out of that filthy alley, he'd forced him all through the city, he'd yanked him straight back into danger and now didn't have the strength to get him out again. He'd done this.

As horrible as the possibility of dying under the moonlight had been before, suddenly, it was all Roy wanted.

"R... Roy..."

" _Please..."_

But he didn't have the strength to go on any longer.

"Please," he choked, fading. The floor was suddenly up close, and he sank against it, curled around Ed, and prayed to die.

 _I'm sorry, Fullmetal..._

The last thing he felt were hands prying Ed away from his own.


	17. Chapter 17

Thank you all so much for reviewing! Yep- MAES LIVES! Finally, I get to use my favorite happy character. Trust me, I'm just excited as all of you!

Now- onwards! :D

* * *

Maes was completely, utterly lost, and in a complete, utter panic.

Ed and Roy. Back.

And sitting together on the floor outside his apartment, covered in blood, and completely, utterly unconscious.

There was too much _impossible_ about this situation for him to ever comprehend.

Maes reached his shaking hand forward, an unsteady gasp lurching past his lips when he finally made contact with Roy's wet face. Oh, god. He was _freezing._ "R… Roy," he mumbled, stunned, though his voice was useless; he might as well have been talking at a brick wall for all that it roused him. "I…" Trembling harder, he lowered his hand down to Ed- small, blood-soaked Ed, god, where was his _automail,_ small blood-soaked Ed who hadn't moved an inch since he'd gotten here-

Who was… ice cold…

"No," he breathed, horror pressing into his heart. "No… no, Ed. Oh, no, don't do this…"

He had to grasp his arm in his hands, so malnourished and wet and sickly and _cold;_ when Maes finally managed to get a firm grasp around his wrist, the pulse he finally found was too thready and weak to reassure him but the fact that it was there at all nearly keeled him over with a gutwrenching sense of relief. Roy was alive, he'd known that, but when Maes quickly transferred his exam to him next, he found a similarly weak heartbeat under similarly cold skin, and knew he had to act quickly.

"M- Maes?" he heard Gracia stammer behind him, and turned just in time to catch her eyes widen in disbelief. "Is that…?"

"Ed and Roy," he filled in shakily; he could barely recognize his own voice, it was so shocked. "I don't have any idea how or why but it's them, Gracia. It's-…" He broke off for a moment, suddenly smiling, suddenly without even the strength to fight it back because they were _alive,_ he'd been so damn _scared_ but here they were, both of them, and he could still feel Roy's heart beating languidly under his hands and oh god they were _alive- "_ C-call an ambulance," he stammered again, still holding Roy. "Then help me get them inside, quickly. They need help, Gracia."

It took her more than a moment to manage a reply, but given the circumstances, he never could've blamed her. Hell, he thought it would've taken him even longer. He heard her hurried agreement as her footsteps ran from him, leaving Maes alone again in the hallway with his best friend and subordinate still out cold before him, and still just too shocked for words.

 _God, Roy… Ed…_ He stared between them in horror, and it took more than he wanted to admit for him to get his shaking hands to move forward again, drifting uneasily between the blood that covered the both of them. It- it couldn't be as bad as it looked. Right? It just couldn't. There was _so much blood…_ but if that was all theirs- no. Simply _no._ Based off everything he could see the two had just walked here under their own power, but if all that blood was theirs, that had to be impossible! There was so much- and they were both so _cold…_

A frantic gasp caught in his throat and Maes pulled them forward, one arm thrown around Roy's limp shoulders and the other catching Ed to keep him from falling, heart shuddering in his chest and blinking back hot, stubborn tears. They'd been missing so long… and were so obviously hurt, mistreated, Roy had been terrified out of his _mind…_

They couldn't die. After whatever unimaginable hells they'd made it through to make it back to them tonight, they couldn't, _couldn't,_ die.

Gracia finally returned behind him; he heard her even with his arms still wrapped protectively around the two cold, limp bodies and his face pressed miserably to Roy's neck. Swallowing tightly, Maes tightened his arms for one second longer, then forced himself backwards, rubbing the back of his trembling hand against his face. "Come on, let's get them inside," he forced out, voice still noticeably thick but at the moment he was too exhausted and shocked to care. "Did they say how long it would be?"

His wife nodded reluctantly as she joined him on the floor, the both of them awkwardly maneuvering together to try and move them at least out of the hallway, Gracia reaching down to carry Ed while Maes awkwardly hefted Roy up, trying not to put pressure on any possible injuries. "Half an hour," she told him, letting Maes lead the way inside. "They said they would try to get here as fast as possible, but with the bridge down and the blockades…"

Maes cursed silently, biting his lip. He'd seen that one coming, as much as it worried him; even with the ambulance being expedited through the roadblocks, he'd known it would take a while, and that calling them back to scream _they're my FRIENDS, damn it!_ would accomplish exactly nothing except a pissed off dispatcher. It certainly wouldn't provide any sort of aid for Ed and Roy. So, sighing, he just gave his understanding through a terse nod and kicked the door shut with his heel behind them, Roy still supported in his arms as he watched his wife move forward, carrying Ed.

"Roy was c-conscious," he gasped, gingerly lowering his best friend to the floor. Oh, god. He was so cold. He wasn't _moving._ No… "Out there, he- he _talked_ to me, Gracia- he talked to me for a little before he passed out, he was awake, he- he has to be okay, right? Or that's a good sign, at least? Isn't it?"

His wife nodded to him as she moved backwards, helping to get Ed inside. "Well, it's certainly not a bad sign, at least..."

Maes forced himself to nod back, insides squirming, but still couldn't tear his eyes from the sight long enough to even really look at her. Roy was utterly unmoving, half in his arms, half on the floor, alternately white as a sheet and covered in so much blood it was horrifying. Maes just couldn't stop himself from starting to rub his hands vigorously up and down his cold arms, trying to force some warmth into him and trying just as desperately _not_ to look at Ed, who was worse in every way. He barely heard his wife tell him to wait or her footsteps as she ran further back into the apartment, leaving him alone again as he tried and failed to calm his frantic heart.

 _Please be okay… please, god, be okay…_

Gracia returned almost immediately, bundles of supplies in her arms and he immediately thanked every single god there was that his wife was a nurse and a damn good one at that; he could think of no one else he'd want here with him to not only get Ed and Roy through this, but get him through it as well. He hugged Roy tighter, only half under the guise of keeping him supported, to watch as Gracia threw a collection of towels out over the floor, already firmly in nurse mode.

"Let's get lying them down…" she murmured, examining Ed herself; Maes' stomach twisted when the boy just flopped limply in her arms like a dead fish. "On his stomach. His back looks to be what's hurt- is Roy the same?"

Maes swallowed as he looked down at his best friend again, starting to examine him with shaking hands. It was hard to tell in the dim lighting and with the blood all over him, all of it wet, all of it _recent…_ his face was bruised, badly enough for Maes to recognize it as a fist fight gone very, very _wrong-_ although given his best friend's state, he doubted it was a fight so much as a beating, and his blood boiled, but that wasn't what Gracia was asking about. That wasn't what had him potentially bleeding out in his arms.

He moved down his arms next, still rubbing them vigorously and his heart clenched at the sensation; surely it wasn't just his imagination, they had to be getting warmer, they _had to be._ He trailed down his arms, relatively unscathed, some telling ligature marks around his wrists that again had him seeing red, then-

Maes stopped, his heart lurching in his chest.

His hands.

God, his _hands._

They… _they…_

Roy's pale, powerful hands had been destroyed. Maes honestly couldn't find even an inch of unhurt skin past his scuffed, bruised wrists. God, he couldn't even tell what had happened to them. There were deep, dark purple and red bruises scattered over the backs, the fingers swollen so badly he knew they could be broken, and gently turning one over made his heart lurch again to see the red, raw burns scattered across his palms. This wasn't just to disable his hands as an alchemist… these people had fucking _tortured_ him.

It took Maes a couple seconds to exhale his tense anger, blinking hard and forcing himself to stop. Yes, it was horrible, yes, he wanted to tear the monster responsible apart- but his hands weren't why he was potentially bleeding out, either.

And that was all there was time for him to care about, right now.

Maes gingerly let Roy's hands drop, just because there was no way for him to hold them without hurting him. He examined the rest of him as fast as he could, moving the limp form forward in his arms, trying to find the source of all that damn blood-

"I think it's his back," he finally managed, voice hoarse and shaking. He glanced nervously at Gracia as he started to lay Roy down on the waiting towels, positioning him on his stomach and turning his head gently to the side so he could breathe easier, just the way Gracia had gotten Ed down. "Hang on, let me see…"

Maes started to reach for Roy's shirt, had already started to try and peel it over his head when Gracia yanked him back, holding both his hands in hers tightly and shaking her head. "Wait, wait, Maes- look!" She pointed first to Roy, then Ed as well, and when he just stared blankly, his wife moved forward herself, lightly trailing a hand across Ed's still, bleeding back. "They must've been burned, somehow. Their clothes are fused to the skin in places, Maes; we can't get them off without hurting them."

Maes half-choked, darting forward again to squint and stare, heart pounding in disbelief. "They're _what?"_ he breathed, horrified. It was true, he realized- the thin fabric had already been destroyed anyway, soaked through with blood and torn, fraying, but when he looked closer he could see what Gracia was talking about, where the blood seemed to be the worst. It was true for both of them. He could see where the shirts had been burned black and were stuck to Ed and Roy's skin.

"Oh, god," he choked out, running a shaking hand lightly over Roy's back, then stared at Ed, sucking in another trembling gasp. "Gracia, that's…"

"They'll be okay, Maes," his wife promised gently, still kneeling by Ed's side, eyes narrowed with worry. "They'll be able to get it off in the ER; they'll be fine- right now we just need to try and slow the blood loss and keep them warm. Keep pressure on what wounds we can." As she spoke she grabbed another towel from the bundle she'd brought out with her, quickly wrapping it around Ed like a blanket, and Maes wasted no time in jumping to do the same for Roy. He'd trust his wife. He _had_ to trust her that they would be okay, that this was all they could do for them. That had to be true, because if not…

If not…

Maes shut his suddenly stinging eyes for a moment, swallowing hard as he wrapped both his arms and a second towel around Roy, trying not to see the blood already soaking through. He desperately fought to ignore how cold every bit of exposed skin still was, how Roy was smaller than he ought to be, head lolling limply against his shoulder. He tightened his arms, half to keep him warm, half because he just couldn't help himself, because Roy was here and _alive_ after weeks and weeks missing and Ed was here with him, and he'd never been so relieved in his _life,_ but…

Maes swallowed, looking back down at Roy and shifting a little, the investigator in him starting to take over, to look for the evidence he knew he'd need the moment the ambulance got here- so he could find just who the hell had done this to them. And again, Maes found himself swamped with confusion and uncertainty. Sure, he'd never really been sure what to expect when _(when,_ not if, _when)_ they'd found Ed and Roy, but… _this?_

They both looked as if they'd just broken out of a hospital. Both wearing sets of scrubs completely soaked through with blood, but thin, pale scrubs all the same. Narrowing his eyes, Maes gently shifted Roy around again, sliding the towel down just a bit in sudden inspiration- then scowled. Yes, there it was… a dark bruise in the crook of his elbow. Considering how relatively unscathed the rest of his arms were, considering _everything-_

 _The bruise from an IV?_

Maes stared harder, his brow furrowing.

Slowly, his heart pounding even harder, he gingerly lifted Roy's cold arm up into the air, and- sure enough. Just as he'd suspected. A plastic hospital ID bracelet around his wrist, identifying him as a hospital patient.

A hospital patient with dozens of untreated wounds, and based off the red marks around his wrist, one who had every sign of having been held prisoner.

His eyes narrowed again.

Immediately Maes slid his thumb between the loose band and Roy's wounded skin, snapping it off with a barely suppressed growl. Still cradling his limp friend with one arm, he lifted the thing up to squint at it again, reading the tiny print.

" _Psychiatric Ward,"_ he murmured, hissing out the words like a curse.

"Psychi… _what?"_ Gracia breathed, eyes wide. She stared at him, then looked back down at Ed's arm to pull at his matching bracelet, lifting it up so she could see it for herself. She gasped again. "Maes…"

Maes closed his eyes, his mind racing.

Roy's limp, cold form in his arms chilled him more than he wanted to admit, and for a second, he couldn't even speak at all.

"A few days ago," he said hesitantly at last, "a woman got sent to my office. A psychiatric nurse. It took a week or two for the military police to finally send her my way; we didn't realize who she was, at first… but she wanted to talk to the police because she was worried her patients were being mistreated, but her hospital wasn't listening to her or doing anything about it." He paused for a moment longer, swallowing tightly. "She said their names were Edward Elric and Roy Mustang."

Gracia stiffened across from him, gasping again, and Maes squeezed his eyes shut with a guilty moan. "I know. I _know_ … we were going to check it out tomorrow- but, Gracia, we thought she was crazy! Their names have been in the paper, we thought- we see it more often than you'd think. Lunatics off the street who read about crimes in the newspaper, we had no idea- she was telling the _truth?!"_ Maes shook his head in disbelief, still talking more to himself than her as he gently hugged Roy closer again, heart pounding.

He'd never actually _really_ believed the young woman when she'd finally gotten rerouted to his office, sitting there telling them the story of her realizing her psych patients maybe weren't that crazy after all. It had just seemed too convenient to be true. Because, after all, if her story was true- why the hell had they never broken out themselves? Both genius, combat state alchemists, imprisoned by a couple nurses and some locked doors? Because that was the story she had told.

He didn't think so.

Except, now…

Well, he was starting to realize there was a hell of a lot more to this than what that nurse had told them.

Shaking his head vigorously, Maes fought back his guilt to suffer it later, instead again just tightening his arms and looking to his stunned, blinking wife again. "Gracia, can we cancel that ambulance?"

"Maes…?"

He frowned slightly, transferring his gaze back to his best friend again. Roy was starting to shiver, he thought, just a little… _anything_ was better than that dead stillness from before, though, and Maes swallowed the lump in his throat, rubbing his hands encouragingly down his arms again. "I don't know what's going on here, but by the looks of things, they just broke out of a hospital. I don't know that it's safe to put them back in one."

It might've been overkill, it might not have been- Maes didn't care. He'd spent the last few months trying and _absolutely failing_ to find them- well, now that they'd somehow fought their way back to safety again, his job wasn't to find them, but to protect them.

He sure as hell wasn't going to fail at that now.

But Gracia was already shaking her head to him, adjusting the towel around Ed and Maes blanched to see even more blood soaking through it than there was for Roy. "Maes, just based off from what I've seen now, they both need a sterile environment and trained physicians. They both need blood transfusions _now,_ before they go into shock! They need a _hospital,_ Maes, not some military safehouse! Even just for a day or two… Maes, it's not safe!"

Maes cursed under his breath as he looked between the two again, touching Roy's still freezing skin and looking to where Ed lay limply in his wife's arms, white and barely breathing. He'd be able to get them to a doctor, at least; as much as he'd grumble about it, he could enlist Knox- but he was worried she was right. They needed more help than he alone could get to them, and he still didn't even know the half of what they'd been through.

"A private hospital, then," he sighed heavily, shutting his eyes. "We'll get them to a private hospital and admitted under false names. Then remove them as soon as possible." They'd be safe, still- he'd make sure of it. Either his staff or Roy's would be there so they'd be under guard twenty four seven, and the moment he could he'd get them out of there until he'd found just who the hell had done this to them. Oh, Roy's staff… he was going to have to call Hawkeye soon, she'd be so _relieved-_ and Al…!

Shaking himself again, Maes gently started to shift Roy around again to get him lying back down. He'd answered the door expecting to find nothing at all out there, but in today's climate, far better to be safe rather than sorry- but looked like he badly needed to change course. He was going to grab his military ID and as much of his uniform as he could throw on in a split second, not wanting to leave Roy alone for any longer than that.

But as Maes started to lie his best friend down on the floor, Roy suddenly shivered harder, twitching away from his arms with a soft moan. The colonel curled slightly, trembling, deathly pale face contorting just a little- and Maes froze, hardly daring to move.

Was he waking up…?

"…Roy?" he called softly, his clothes and ID all but forgotten. "Buddy? Can you hear me?"

Roy moaned softly again, his brow furrowing. He turned his head away a little more, mouth falling into a miserable, painful frown.

"Roy?" he murmured again. His voice cracked and against his better judgment, he reached to hold him tighter, suddenly absolutely unable to even think of putting him down.

There was a third soft, distressed moan. This time, Maes could hear the pain in the tiny sound alone.

Heart jolting in his chest, Maes swallowed hard and started to lower Roy again, thinking of the horrible wounds on his back and certain it had to be hurt to be held like this; it be easier for him lying down, no matter how much he wanted to not let him go. "Shh, it's okay," he cautioned, gently lowering Roy down to his stomach. "It's just me, Maes… you're safe now."

Roy let out another soft, pained noise, one trembling and bleeding hand curling against the towels. He twitched, a stuttering gasp escaping past clenched teeth… and then opened his eyes.

Maes' heart leapt.

"Buddy!" he cried, moving forward before he could stop himself. He lowered a hand to rest gently against the side of his head, touching his longer, greasy hair, a smile already spreading across his face. "Hey… welcome back, Roy."

A frown creased into Roy's face again. His dark, bleary eyes narrowed- not even looking at Maes once.

Slowly, searchingly, they moved across the room to land on Ed.

In that instant, Maes felt Roy stiffen.

And then, he was gone.

" _Fullmetal! FULLMETAL! Leave him alone!"_ Roy was suddenly scrambling, fists flying; Maes took a blow to the jaw that left him on the floor. _"Don't touch him! DON'T TOUCH HIM!"_

"R-Roy-" he gasped, pushing himself back up but in that second alone, Roy was now gone and Gracia was left gaping against the wall, disheveled and wide-eyed. "Roy-"

" _GET AWAY FROM US!"_ Roy slipped and slid away from them, Ed wrapped in the towel in his arms while the colonel stumbled and almost fell, looking no more suited to be up and moving around than Ed himself. But he still ran, sprinting away from them, banging around a corner like the devil himself was on his tail.

"Roy!" Maes cried again, jolting upright in an instant to try and follow. "Roy, wait, it's okay! It's just me! You're _safe!"_

But his words didn't get Roy to stop. The colonel just ran from him and Maes had no choice but to follow behind, trailing in horror, hurrying behind as he chased Roy straight back- to his own bedroom? Roy was shaking and bleeding and barely on his feet at all but kept moving regardless, kept moving even when Maes came to a hesitant stop in the doorway to block his only way out, and found himself staring in horror instead.

The colonel turned around the room like a rat in a maze, gasping at every wall and shaking harder and harder with every step that he took that led him nowhere. He jolted backwards from Maes, wide-eyed and terrified, nearly tripping over his own feet, shaking his head over and over again. "S-stay back- get away from me-" He stumbled until he hit the far wall, pressing himself against it and shaking, Ed still unconscious and cradled against his chest. " _Don't come any closer!"_

Maes stared at him in dawning, shocked horror. "…Roy?" he asked hesitantly, not daring to move any closer than he already was. Slowly he raised his hands, showing him he was unarmed, but that didn't seem to put him at ease at all. "Roy, it's okay, just- just take it easy…"

" _SHUT UP!"_ Roy screamed, half sobbing as he fell, knees buckling, bloody back scraping against the wall. "Stay over there! Don't get near me, or I swear- I s-swear, I'll-"

He trailed off, cracked speech silencing, shaking voice dying without ever finishing the words as he hit the floor, holding Ed in his lap and gasping so fast it sounded as if he just might pass out. _"STOP IT!"_ he shouted, shouted even though Maes wasn't doing anything, even though he wasn't even anywhere near him, even though he was _safe_ now and Maes would die before he let anybody past him now, ever. " _S-stop… stay away… j-just get away from us… please…"_

Maes' breath against caught in his throat. His heart clenched.

It sounded like, underneath the anger and fear and violence… Roy was crying.

"Get away f-f-from us," he sobbed, clutching Ed to his chest, staring up at Maes with those wide, fear stricken eyes. "D-don't… please…"

What the hell had these people _done_ to them?

Roy was actually scared. Scared of _him._ Holding and protecting Ed- from _him._ Backed up into a corner and shaking, terrified, sobbing- because of what he thought Maes was going to do to him.

Maes took a long, shaking breath, forcing himself to stay calm and still in the doorway. Roy had lost god only knew how much blood and was in god only knew how much pain. Roy had, somehow, turned up here in the middle of the night, almost certainly on the run for his life. Roy and Ed had been through things he didn't want to even think about.

That was all this was. They were going to be _fine._ Once they'd been treated and given a chance to calm down and realize they were safe, they'd be fine. He just had to get them through this.

So Maes started to lower himself down to the ground, watching Roy as he might a wild dog as he slowly got down to his knees and still showing him his hands, trying to reinforce the fact that he was not a threat. "It's okay," he said quietly again, praying Gracia would follow his lead, praying Elicia would stay asleep or at least in her room, praying it wouldn't get worse from here. "I'm not going to hurt you, Roy… you and Ed are safe here, all right? Just calm down, buddy…"

Roy just stayed on the floor, shaking, not saying anything, hugging Ed to him in wordless terror. Taking Roy's silence as permission, he dared to take one step forward- only to jolt to a stop again when Roy cried out in terror.

"It's m-my fault," he stammered, high-pitched and near hysterical. "It's m-mine- I made him come with me, I forced him to do this- don't take it out on him! Please, _please_ don't hurt him again, just punish me, it's all my fault, just let him go, t-take _me,_ I-" His voice cracked, broken with sobs, and then he wasn't looking at Maes any longer, burying his face into Ed's hair as he dragged the boy against his chest and turned, using his bloodied back to shield him from Maes, the rest of the room, the world. "It's my fault, it's all my fault… I did this to him… take me, take me…"

Maes froze again, shaking in the doorway. His heart clenched, breaking as Roy just pulled away from him and sobbed, obviously terrified out of his mind and there was nothing Maes could do to stop it.

He didn't know what the hell these people had done to them, but even after barely ten minutes of this, he was starting to realize that he didn't want to know.

He didn't want to even imagine what could've made Ed, that confident, nearly indomitable boy, lie limp and bleeding in Roy's arms, or made his best friend, one of the smuggest, most rightfully arrogant people Maes had ever known, sit there sobbing in the corner in sheer terror.

He didn't want to know- but he also had a very bad feeling that he didn't have a choice.

"Hey, buddy, look at me," he started gently, sinking fully to his knees but knowing it'd be too dangerous to try and move forward just yet. "It's just me. I won't hurt you, I promise." He waited several moments, biting his lip again. "Can you let me take a look at Ed, Roy?"

The reaction, predictably, was immediate.

And not favorable.

"Don't touch him," Roy gasped, half a sob, half a broken, desperate order. "I killed the others- I'll fucking kill you, too. Don't make me do it. I'll do it. I'll _do it."_ He lowered a shaking hand, fingers clenching into the wet blood soaking his shirt then started to draw on his arm, a circle, a triangle- but he was shaking too hard and Maes watched, horrified, as Roy tried again and again, sobbing desperately with each failed attempt. "Don't touch us, I'll kill you, I'll kill you, don't touch him, _please…"_

"I won't hurt either of you, Roy, I promise." Maes' voice broke again and he looked between Ed and Roy, his eyes lingering on Ed's noticeably shallow breaths, how Ed was _still bleeding,_ how despite all the moving around Ed was still yet to stir _even once._ The ambulance had to be getting closer, now, but it wasn't close enough and suddenly all Maes could see was Ed dying in Roy's arms, dying because Roy was too terrified to let him get help. "Come on, it's me! You _know_ me! I just want to help...!"

But Roy was far too gone to listen to him.

Maes heard his wife before he saw her, Gracia moving hesitantly up from behind him to stand by his side. Roy flinched at the mere sight of her, and badly; there was another high-pitched gasp and he tightened his arms around Ed again, pulling away. "S-stop," he moaned, eyes wide with fright.

"Roy," she tried next, "Ed's really badly hurt. He needs help."

That was all she said, just that, but that was enough to make his best friend's blood-spattered, white face to contort, his wide eyes darting back down to Ed again. The boy was completely out of it still, held up only by Roy's arms, limbs so awkwardly splayed and face so slack he could've been dead. He knew Roy saw it, too, when his face twisted again, anguish flickering through his eyes- but he still didn't let go of Ed.

"Just let us look at him, Roy, that's all," Maes practically begged, still crouched in the doorway. God, he looked _terrified._ "We won't hurt him."

There was silence for a few moments more, nothing but the sound of Roy's high-pitched, fast-paced breathing; at last, Gracia took a step tentatively into the room. Roy flinched again, gaze immediately stuck on her, but he didn't yell at her to get out as he had Maes- he guessed because Gracia was smaller than Roy and seemed like less of a threat to him, something that left Maes trembling and fighting back anger as he waited in the doorway. His best friend wasn't supposed to be _scared_ of him. He wasn't supposed to be huddled back in the corner, dripping blood and near tears, flinching from them both like he expected to be beaten or killed.

But, then, Ed wasn't supposed to be as still and cold as the dead, either.

None of this was how it was _supposed_ to have happened.

So Maes could do nothing but hold still in the doorway and watch as Gracia carefully moved forward and Roy evaluated her, looking her up and down and gauging whether or not it was safe. Even when his wife reached him, Roy still did not move, just staring at her with wide eyes and horrified gasps; it took Gracia gently trying to pull Ed from his arms for him to let go- and even then, he still held onto Ed's hand, and moved with Gracia as she lay Ed back down on the floor.

Maes swallowed, throat uncomfortably tight, and once again knew he really _did not want to know_ what had happened, to break Ed and Roy down to this state.

Gracia moved quickly, flipping the limp boy onto his stomach again and checking his heart rate, his breathing, everything. He watched as she frowned slightly, then sat back to put pressure on the wounds, holding the towel to his back.

Unlike Roy, who'd fidgeted and started moaning in pain when his injuries had been touched, Ed remained perfectly still.

Maes winced again.

"W-wait-" Roy gasped, leaning forward, but his voice was maybe a touch less hostile. "You're hurting him- please-"

"I'm keeping him alive," Gracia interrupted sternly, not looking at him. "He's going to go into shock if he hasn't already. Slowing blood loss is what's important right now."

Roy stared between her and Ed again, hands shaking as he reached out as if to help, then just dropped back down again, miserable and helpless. His face crumpled and his shoulders slumped, burying his face in one bloody hand while he still clutched onto Ed's with the other. Maes couldn't help but move forward again, just wanting to comfort him, willing to do _anything_ to just get that shattered look off his face. He let out a tiny moan, moving closer just in time to hear Roy gasp, "It's my fault, it's all my _fault,"_ into his hand, and Maes's heart again almost broke.

It was quiet for a few moments, Maes struggling with the knowledge that just reaching out and hugging Roy would only make everything worse paired with the desire to just get him to stop looking so crushed and defeated, Gracia still treating Ed, Roy still… just sitting like that. Face in his hand, hand on Ed, shoulders heaving silently, his own back dripping blood onto the floor.

And Ed, unmoving and cold, unaware of either his wife at his back or Roy by his side.

At last, Gracia turned just a little, giving Roy a small, soft smile. "He'll be okay, Roy. He will. He's really doing well, I promise." She paused for another moment, pressing a little harder down on Ed's back. "You're lucky I'm a nurse."

And once again, Roy stiffened.

His shoulders stopped heaving. His hand, previously hiding his face, abruptly clenched- then slowly dropped, white-knuckled and trembling, very faintly.

His black eyes went cold.

"What did you say?" he asked flatly.

Gracia glanced confusedly at him before turning back to Ed, adjusting the towel a little and frowning again. "What?" she asked, voice distracted, then murmured something to herself and leaned down to check Ed's heart rate again.

"You're… a nurse."

Maes tilted his head to the side, frowning himself as he watched Roy. While, granted, this was much better than the despondent, horrified man of not even a minute before- this was wrong. Wasn't it? What was Roy on about…?

"Um… yeah, Roy," he ventured uncertainly, eying him. "She's a nurse." _You knew that already, Roy…_ "What are you-"

Roy looked back at Gracia again.

The blood drained from his already splattered face, leaving him a cold, ghastly white with no more color than a skull.

Then he cocked his fist back, and punched Gracia in the face.


	18. Chapter 18

Thank you all so, so much for reviewing! I know it's been a _long_ while of cliffhangers of irredeemable angst, and we're not quite out of it yet, but the end is in sight! Last chapter was the last cliffhanger (for a while), and we finally fight our way out of angst to real emotional recovery next chapter. Just hang on until then! Enjoy! :D

* * *

The ambulance came not five minutes after Roy had, yet again, lost consciousness.

The only reason Ed and Roy were still there when it came was because Roy had passed out the moment Maes had started to shout at him, and Ed had never even woken up in the first place.

The only reason Maes hadn't hit Roy back was because Gracia had managed to stop him.

* * *

By the time the others got to the hospital, Maes had had more than enough time to think.

His best friend's staff arrived in a cascade, like bowling pins knocking each other down one after the other. First it was Falman, disheveled and looking as if he'd just rolled out of bed- something that hit a little too close to home at that moment, because Maes imagined he made a similar picture himself. "Fuery's at the office," were his first words. "Trying to get a hold of Al. I was going to stay with him, but you said we'd need a security detail…?"

Maes nodded briskly, not bothering to explain- that would wait until everyone else was here. "That's fine," he said tiredly, nodding again, "that's fine; we can make do with a man down for a little while…"

Alphonse, to the best of his knowledge, was currently somewhere near South City. He'd spent the first month in Central, but when lead after lead had fizzled out into nothing and he'd gotten less and less support from Central Command, the boy had left to search for his brother on his own.

Maes, as worried as he'd been, hadn't been able to blame him.

Given their current state of affairs, it had been a fight for Maes to get any manpower for his investigation at all. He'd known all along his superiors had only given him the okay since it was two of their top combat State Alchemists who'd gone missing, but even that support had been dwindling. Maes had still kept the investigation going, with Roy's staff along with him- but at a certain point, Al just hadn't been able to take sitting still waiting for military approval any longer.

He'd kept in touch. He'd called religiously, contacting them every three days without fail and letting them know every single change of location. It had broken Maes' heart to let him go- armor or not, that was still a thirteen year old boy he'd had to watch head off to search the country by himself, a boy he wanted to beg to just stay in his guest bedroom a little while longer, just be taken care of… but it was Ed's disappearance, that had done this to Al. Trying to trap him in Central when he could be out there looking for his brother would've done nothing but hurt him.

Needless to say, Maes was now immeasurably relieved to know he'd be headed back here soon to where he could keep an eye on him- yes, because it meant Ed and Roy were safe… but just for Al's sake, as well.

He couldn't imagine what these past weeks had been like for him.

Havoc and Breda had arrived next, just a minute or two after Falman yet somehow looking even less put together than him. Breda had completely lost the cavalry skirt while Havoc's jacket, all medals, bells, and whistles included, was inside out, but considering Maes had been lucky to make it out of his house with even his glasses, he found himself in no place to judge. "We're waiting for news," he said without preamble, raising a hand in exhausted greeting. "Shouldn't be much longer now."

The two soldiers glanced uneasily at each other, hesitating as they approached him. "You… found them, sir?"

"They found me." He closed his eyes for a moment, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. "…Somehow."

And that was another thing about this- another thing that Maes had a lot of trouble facing. If he was right, Ed and Roy had been held in a medical facility. If the bracelets he'd torn off their wrists had been accurate, they'd been in Central Hospital, for god's sake- not ten miles away from HQ. They'd also been very badly injured, and as much as he knew those two disliked hospitals, neither were stupid or crazy enough to run away from one while bleeding to death.

The only explanation was that they'd been running for their lives- and while he still wasn't sure why, they had run to him. They, or, at least Roy, had trusted him to keep them safe.

And he'd taken them straight back to a hospital.

Maes sighed, reminding himself once again that he'd _had no choice,_ and settled back to wait.

He didn't have to wait long.

Hawkeye marched off the elevator, more put together than all of them combined, dangerous eyes flashing and arms folded with every measured step. "All appropriate officers have been notified, sir," she told him as a greeting, saluting despite the fact she was the only one in full uniform and it was four in the god damn morning. "I've held off on making an official report until we're sure no superior officer is involved in what's gone on here, like you requested."

Maes sighed in relief, slumping over in his chair again. Thank god for Hawkeye. "Thank you," he murmured, even as Havoc let out a startled exclamation next to him.

" _How?_ We only beat you here by five minutes! How could you _possibly_ have had the time to call _any-"_

"I brush my teeth in my car," she deadpanned, and Maes had given up a long time ago trying to decipher the truthfulness behind her dry humor. The lieutenant lowered her hand, still staring down at him with hard, unreadable eyes… and even without her asking, he knew now, what was expected of him.

Maes sighed reluctantly, shutting his eyes again.

No more avoiding it, then.

And so, with another long, miserable sigh, his eyes on the floor, Maes told them how he'd come to find Ed and Roy outside his apartment… and what had happened before the ambulance had gotten there.

 _Everything_ that had happened.

By the time he'd finished his hesitant, lurching recount, every soldier in the waiting room was staring at him, and Maes still hadn't managed to take his gaze up off the cracked floor.

"The colonel… _hit_ her?" Havoc stammered at last, his voice breaking into a shocked, impossible silence. "He- he actually…"

There was another uncertain pause as Maes nodded, swallowing tightly. "He did," he murmured, clenching his fists in his lap.

"…Is Mrs. Hughes all right?" Hawkeye ventured cautiously. She was trying to hide it, but he could easily tell she was just as unpleasantly shocked as everyone else.

Maes nodded again, rubbing a faintly trembling hand over his face. "Yes. Shaken up, but… okay. I checked her for a concussion before leaving with the paramedics." He paused, grimacing darkly at the floor. It was a battle to force himself to even try to be impartial, but if he removed himself from the situation enough- Roy had barely touched her. Gracia had had a glancing red mark on the side of her forehead and that was it. From his considerable experience with fist fights, he doubted it'd even bruise that badly, and even checking for a concussion had probably been overkill.

Trying to be impartial, though, had been a failing effort doomed right from the start, when there was a mark on his _wife._

He sighed heavily, glancing back up at the stunned soldiers sitting around him. "I had Gracia take Elicia; they'll be staying at her sister's for a little while. From what it looks like, Ed and Roy made it to my place on foot, and I don't want to risk whoever did this to them following their trail."

There was an uncomfortable silence again, the others all suddenly going to great lengths not to look at him, all fidgeting and twitching awkwardly, and Maes knew that hadn't really been what they'd been asking about.

He glanced away himself, swallowing the hot anger starting to rise in his throat for the tenth time this hour. Gracia had been more shaken up than physically bruised, and even that had been because it was _Roy,_ not just from being hit. She'd been struck before by patients, admittedly rarely, and usually tantamount to accidents- people in the ER in a panic, patients delirious with fever or pain…

There was a big difference between that, and having someone she knew, was _friends_ with, stand up, look at her, and just calmly punch her in the face.

Maes shut his eyes tightly, exhaling hard and fighting back the anger again. He had to calm down. It had to have been an accident. It _had_ to have. He couldn't keep replaying what had happened in his mind, seeing Roy throw his fist forward and _Gracia_ crumpling, over and over- he couldn't let himself keep seeing that, it was going to drive him mad-

"Colonel Mustang just… hit her? Just like that?" Hawkeye said weakly, her voice faltering. "I- why would he- why would he _do_ such a thing?"

Maes clenched his fists again, forcing a long breath out to try and calm himself. It didn't even come closer to working. "I've been thinking about that, actually." In between trying to control himself from wanting to punch the son of a bitch right back, that was… "Roy's… I've known him for a long time. And, as nicely as I can say it, he's not above hitting a woman. If someone is a serious threat to him or someone he cares about and he's got no other choice- he won't think twice about what he has to do to get rid of that threat."

It was a product of how he'd grown up, he'd learned- constantly surrounded by older, confident women not afraid to throw a punch and who could take one, too, and that crazy aunt of his teaching him to protect himself first, be a gentleman second… it wasn't that Roy _liked_ doing it, obviously, but if his hands were tied- well.

He'd fight his way out of it.

Maes' parents had taught him that if he ever laid a hand on a woman, his father would beat the tar out of him- and Roy's aunt had taught him not to pull a punch just because the person attacking him wore a dress instead of a suit. It was just that simple.

"But Mrs. Hughes wasn't a threat to him, sir-"

"My point exactly. …I saw how Roy was looking at us. Looking at _her_. And I…" He hesitated again, stomach twisting threateningly. "I've been thinking, and… I'm not so sure that he recognized us at all."

There was another uncertain, uncomfortable silence.

"He never called either of us by name," he went on, ticking the points off on his fingers but eyes still on the floor, not wanting to see the look on any of their faces as he spelled out the troubled conclusion he'd spent the last hour reluctantly coming to. "Ed wasn't conscious, I don't know about him- but I'm absolutely sure Roy never called either of us by name. And the way he was looking at us… the way he looked at Gracia, right before…" He shook his head in frustration, forcing his eyes up off the floor to look around at the others. "I honestly don't think he recognized either of us. They way he was acting- it wasn't because we startled him or anything, he honestly thought we were trying to hurt him. …Or, Ed, anyway," he corrected ruefully, sitting back with a grimace. Thinking back on it now, everything Roy had done that night had been to protect Ed- he wasn't sure his best friend had even cared, what happened to himself. Just Ed.

"But, Colonel Mustang walked to your apartment… didn't he?" Hawkeye asked uncertainly. She shifted, folding her arms tightly and still exuding an air of almost forced calm. "If he did that, then how- how could he not recognize you?"

"…I don't know. And- and like I said, I don't _know_ any of this. Roy wasn't really trying to explain anything to us, and Ed wasn't talking at all, obviously; this is all wild conjecture on my part. But-" He shrugged unhappily, leaning back in his chair and tilting his head back against the wall. "But I'm almost positive they'd been in a hospital of some kind. They could've been drugged. And…" He hesitated again, biting his lip, then just gave an awkward cough and shook his head. "We'll see."

 _And I was watching Roy, when he hit Gracia._

 _That was the angriest, most frightened, that I think I've ever seen him._

 _And he was looking right at her._

Maes couldn't be sure what to make of that. But he knew, was _certain,_ that things were much, much more than they seemed.

Finally, _finally,_ at long last, Maes saw a doctor walking their way, files under his arm and the look of a man just getting off a far too long night shift. Maes recognized him as the doctor he'd spoken to earlier and got to his feet, gesturing for everyone else to do the same as he moved forward to meet him in the hallway and showed him his military ID. "You're finished treating Major Elric and Colonel Mustang?"

It took the doctor a few confused seconds longer to recognize Maes than it had taken Maes to recognize him. Even then, he still looked startled by the brusque, abrupt greeting and gave him a startled sort of nod, blinking at him as he rushed to get the files open. "I- y-yes, they-"

"Then talk while we walk, please. They both need to be under guard as soon as possible."

"I… right…" he stammered, obviously not used to working with military officers, and it took another moment to get him to turn around, leading them back in the requested direction. He shuffled with the files a moment longer, still plainly uneasy, then glanced at the hoard of soldiers following him. "You're all here for-"

" _Yes,"_ and this time, Maes wasn't the only one to answer. Their impatience was almost palpable, and the doctor seemed to feel it, too, wincing a little as he returned to the folders.

"We're not too sure what happened to either of them, to be honest. They both had second and third degree burns over most of their backs and had lost a lot of blood, but… I'd never seen anything like it." The man hesitated, glancing between them as he led them around a corner. "There's no way it was an accident. Do any of you know how it happened?"

Maes averted his eyes, swallowing hard. The memory of Ed and Roy's blood covered backs slammed into his mind again and he shakily shook his head, trying not to shiver. "We're hoping they might be able to shed some light on that themselves, actually," he murmured, trying to keep his voice steady.

He didn't know how he was going to keep calm, listening to Ed or Roy recount how they'd been horrifically burned to the point of nearly bleeding to death.

The doctor sighed himself, averting his eyes. "They ended up considerably lucky, Colonel Mustang even moreso. I don't think either will need skin grafts, and we've already started them on transfusions and they're responding as well as can be expected. There'll be some painful scarring, and we'll need to keep an eye out for infection, but… they should be okay." He glanced between them all again with a small, hopeful sort of smile, clearly used to the warm excitement and relief usually given to the bearers of good news.

There was another uncomfortable moment of silence, and Hawkeye cleared her throat.

Coughing, the doctor returned to the files, flipping on to another page. "Y-yes, well," he went on awkwardly. "The burns were really the most of it, for Major Elric. He lost a lot of blood but it's looking like we got to him in time. Colonel Mustang had similar wounds but is so much bigger than him, so the blood loss was much less of an issue with him…"

Once again, Maes exchanged a highly uncomfortable look with Hawkeye and the others, all of whom looked just as near stricken by the doctor's statement as he had been.

He wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to laugh at a short joke about Ed again.

At last, squaring his jaw, Maes forced himself to just face forward again and nod, stone-faced, because what was important here was that they were _alive,_ and everything else could be dealt with later. "Thank you," he said roughly, clearing his throat, forcing his voice to be steady.

"The colonel also had lots of other injuries- mostly superficial bruising, it looks like, but a few bruised ribs, too, and a particularly worrisome amount of fluid in his lungs. Since he doesn't seem to have have any infections or other risk factors that normally cause it, I'd guess from a recent drowning?" The doctor gave an uncertain shrug, still walking on down the hallway. "That can be dangerous, but we've done what we can for him for now; just supplemental oxygen therapy and wait and see."

Once again, Maes fought back a slow, angry swell of anger- and once again, he wasn't the only soldier present to do it.

He could guess, knowing something of what Ed and Roy had gone through, why Roy might've inhaled a bucket's worth of water. He could guess a whole litany of reasons why- and an accidental drowning was at the very bottom of the list.

That was one of the downsides, of taking these two to a private hospital. A military physician, one who was used to treating soldiers and would've already realized some of what they'd gone through, would've guessed waterboarding.

Again, Maes clenched his fists, breathing out hard, and considered just what he was going to do when he found these people responsible.

But, then, that also raised more questions than answers, didn't it? If that had happened to Roy, why not Ed? Why was Roy bruised but Ed wasn't? They had been held by the same people, clearly… had one been used as leverage against the other, maybe? He supposed it could be _possible_ they'd been less aggressive against Ed; as young he was, seeing him as just a child, taking it easier on him… but if that was the case, then why had he been burned in the exact same manner as Roy?

Maes sighed unhappily, rubbing at his eyes under his glasses. There were just too many details he didn't know, and too many unanswerable questions. If he wanted to find anything more about what they'd been through, he was just going to have to talk to them.

Clearing his throat, Maes quickly moved on, not wanting to dwell too much on potential waterboarding or whatever the hell _else_ they had gone through. "What about… what about Roy's- hands, then? I saw them earlier, and…"

The soldiers around him all stiffened while the doctor gave another grave nod, returning his focus down to the papers in his hands. "Nothing was broken, despite what they looked like. He won't be able to really use them for a while, but it could be much worse, and I think it looked worse to you than it really is. One of his arms was broken, too, I'm not sure how old but definitely untreated before now. That's probably the worst of it, but we've got it in a cast and it should heal fine now."

Maes breathed a sigh of relief, nodding slowly. He still remembered how bad his hands had looked- still gritted his teeth against that momentary flash of anger because he _knew_ every single injury had been intentional and he _knew_ someone had done that to torture Roy. But this was good news. It could've been worse. All of this, so far, could've been worse. This was even potentially for the _best;_ it sounded as if Roy wouldn't be able to use his gloves for at least a week or two, and given his current state of mind…

Well, Maes didn't feel too guilty, being relieved about that.

The doctor slowed down at last outside a set of rooms and warm relief grew in his chest again; finally, _finally,_ they'd be able to see them- after months of whatever the hell they'd been through, they could finally be able to just go see and talk to Ed and Roy, and- and surely that would be it, wouldn't it? It made sense that Roy had been practically out of his mind before, but now that he'd been treated and wasn't in as much pain, now that he could see he was being protected here- that would all be different, right? He'd be able to just talk to him, and Roy could say who had done this to them and why, and then this would all be over. They'd be _safe_ and that was that.

"All right," he announced gruffly. "Doctor, while they're here, security detail is top priority. Anyone who enters the room must have the proper credentials and be escorted by one of us; no exceptions." He glanced back at the others speculatively, rubbing at his tired eyes again. "Hawkeye, you're in charge of the security detail. Until we know who we can trust, though, no one but all of us and my staff can be involved. I'll take the heat when the brass finds out."

The sharpshooter nodded without hesitation, and the others all looked in perfect agreement right with her. Their priority was keeping Ed and Roy safe- everything else was borderline irrelevant to him, at this point.

He just wanted to talk to them…

Maes swallowed the growing, emotional lump in his throat and turned away from the others, facing the hospital rooms. He opened his mouth again, preparing to instruct the doctor further on how their cases were to be handled-

Then stopped dead.

"Wha…"

He stared, breath cut off into a painful, disbelieving gasp, and the entire world screeched to a nauseating halt around him.

"What did you _do?!"_

The doctor stopped uncomfortably as well, looking away. "I'm… sorry, sir… I never got to explain…" he mumbled, leaving room for the rest of the team to rush up behind him and see just what he was seeing.

Roy was wide awake.

And restrained.

"W-why- why did you _do that_ to him?!" Maes spun furiously back around, horror and rage making his blood boil and his heart race, torn between flaying the doctor alive or rushing in there to his best friend's side. "Do you have any idea what he's been through?! You-"

"Sir, we didn't have a _choice._ He woke up in the ER and nothing we tried could calm him down-"

"So drug him!" Maes half-shouted, gasping. "Anything other than- than _that-"_ God, he had to get in there; after what he'd already been through there was no excuse, it was unconscionable, he had to let him go _now-_ _  
_

"You're not listening to me, sir, we _tried;_ we gave him a sedative and it barely had any effect! There was nothing- sir-" The doctor sighed aggravatedly, shaking his head as he stepped back to address them all, spreading his hands. "Colonel Mustang regained consciousness in the ER. Before we were even able to get a sedative over to him, he'd knocked one of my nurses to the ground and was trying to run down the hallway- which, in his condition, is _really_ not good for his health. After we tried and failed to sedate him, and before we managed to get him restrained, he kept on fighting us, and when he realized he couldn't get away, tried to stab himself with a scalpel. One of my nurses, we had to send home with a broken rib; another one is a floor below and admitted overnight with a concussion. Based off the number of black eyes that I saw, I'm lucky that's _all_ we're dealing with. In addition, we tried _countless times_ to speak to him and get him to understand we only wanted to help; Colonel Mustang gave zero indication he was ever interested in anything except getting us away from him. He's the _definition_ of someone who constitutes a danger to himself and others." He paused darkly again, his heavy gaze moving between Maes and the others with no sign of willingness to give in in his eyes. "I understand he's been through something traumatic, and I'm more than willing to let you all try to get through to him- but for now, that's how he stays. For the safety of my staff.. for his _own_ safety."

Maes stayed frozen by the doorway, heart in his throat. Roy had… all of that? Roy had-

Well, Roy _had_ actually… punched… Gracia. _Gracia,_ of all people. A few unknown nurses was, technically, far less surprising than his wife, but-

But… _Roy_ had really… done _that?_

 _Oh, god, Roy, what happened to you?_

"You can try another sedative, can't you?" Hawkeye asked worriedly from beside him. If he hadn't known her, it would've sounded steady, but he could hear the uncertain fear wavering in her words plain as day and see that same fear in her eyes.

The doctor shook his head, still frowning. "We tried. We gave him a low-dose one in the ER, and there just wasn't a noticeable effect. There were other drugs we could try, but they all suppress respiration; considering he's already got water in his lungs my focus has got to be on improving oxygen intake, not anything that might impede that."

Maes bit his lip, looking back at Roy again, heart aching to tear away into the room to find his own proof that everything the doctor had said was wrong, equally terrified that he'd find just the opposite. He wasn't about to argue with him; their priority had to be getting Ed and Roy as physically healthy as possible first. Everything else would come later. But, still, seeing him like that, knowing even as little as he did about what they'd been through…

"Why do you think the sedative before didn't work?" Hawkeye asked again, voice tight with worry. Maes again thanked god for her managing to stay cognizant when he still couldn't.

The doctor shook his head again, flipping the files shut and tucking them under his arm. "My guess? Usually, you'd see something like that in drug dependency cases. If he's previously abused something like sleeping pills or anti-anxiety pills, that could cause it. Heavy drinking could, too." He shrugged. "It limits how we can treat him, yes, but beyond that, it's not something to be worried about."

Maes exchanged an uncertain look with Hawkeye, shaking his head a little just as she did the same at him. He had no idea about Roy doing anything like that, ever, and neither did she. Roy had his past with drinking, sure, but that was _years_ ago; once he'd managed to seriously commit to getting promoted, it had stopped, save for the occasional bad night or two. It didn't sound nearly like anything what the doctor was describing.

It did, however, lend some credence to his worries that Ed and Roy had been drugged.

"Well… well what about Ed?" Havoc put forth anxiously, a note of quiet, suppressed worry in his words. "Is he… like the Colonel?"

Finally, though, there was a piece of good news- the doctor shook his head reassuringly, and they all gave sighs of relief before he'd even started to talk. "We don't really have any insight into the Major's psychological state, at the moment. He still hasn't regained consciousness." At the look on all their faces then, he hastened to explain, "It's really to be expected- his wounds seemed similar to the colonel's, but he's got probably less than half his total blood volume. He was hit a lot harder than Colonel Mustang was."

Maes winced, glancing back at the others again. Cheers for small mercies, then…

Hawkeye cleared her throat, commanding their attention and dismissing the doctor all in one stare. "Considering everything we've heard now, I don't think we can let Edward wake up alone. I'm going to go coordinate with hospital security. In the meantime, Lieutenant Havoc, you wait in Edward's room, and Lieutenant Colonel Hughes-"

She broke off for just a moment, watching him, something uncertainly vulnerable in her eyes, but it didn't matter, because that was all he'd needed to hear. "Right away," he swore, anxiety cresting near the breaking point, heart already being torn in two between eager relief and something approaching terror as he yanked away to stride straight into his best friend's room.

Roy, as he'd seen outside, was wide awake.

And definitely not in the mood for an emotional reunion.

The instant Maes stepped through the door, Roy flinched, pulling away as much as he could. He tensed and all but growled at him, injured fists clenching, and two dark eyes landed right on him- so full of loathing they nearly took his breath away.

" _You,"_ Roy snarled.

Maes, still barely even halfway into the room, froze.

"H… hey," he stammered slowly, mouth dry. He forced himself further inside, one slow step after another until the door swung shut behind him, staring at Roy. He was on his side, Maes didn't know if it was because of the burns on his back or the cast on one arm, but it hardly made a difference in the end result; both arms were bound loosely to the left bedrail and from the set of the sheets, Maes could only guess his ankles were the same way.

He couldn't hurt himself or anyone else that way, but- but after what he'd been through-

"Roy, I'm sorry, I didn't know they'd- here, let me-"

"Fuck. You."

"I'm sorry," he said again, and he knew he should be talking to Roy right now, asking if he remembered him, asking if he was okay, asking if he'd stay still if he let him out of the restraints, but seeing him like that seemed to just turn his brain off and keep him walking forwards, hands held out helplessly and heart clenched in anguish. "Roy, just calm down, I'll-"

"What did you do to Ed?"

Maes stopped again, the cold hatred that shook in each and every word bringing him to a halt. God, if looks could kill…

"I- I didn't do anything, Roy," he managed at last, swallowing painfully. "Ed's been treated, and he's doing okay, not any worse than you- just in the-…" He broke off, suddenly uncertain. Given his… unbalanced… behavior- was telling him where Ed was really the best idea?

"He's nearby," he coughed, clenching his jaw. "Listen, buddy, I know you're upset-"

"I'm not your fucking _friend,"_ Roy hissed, jerking so hard in the restraints Maes jumped, nearly expecting him to tear them straight off the bedrail. "Listen here, and listen well. You already did this to me once, and not only did I break free, but I killed your guards while I did it. You can delude yourself all you like, but some day I'll do the same here, and if I cross paths with you, I'll kill you, too. And when I find Ed again, if you've hurt him?" Roy stared harder at him, cold anger blazing in his eyes so sincere it made Maes' heart nearly stop. "I will burn this fucking place to the ground."

Maes, again, found himself powerless to do anything but just stand there and stare back, his heart trapped in his throat.

There was _nothing_ in Roy's eyes but that anguished, bloody hatred.

Nothing that he recognized in that face at all.

His earlier revelation came to him again, and this time, heart cold, Maes knew he had no other choice but to ask.

"Roy," he said carefully. He stopped, clenched his jaw, then just forced himself to meet those cold, furious eyes. "What's my name?"

His answer was immediate.

"I don't care what your _name is!"_ Roy screamed, tensing and trying to curl all over again, eyes alight with madness and bleeding rage and anguish. "I don't _care!_ Another nurse, a doctor, do you work for Justin- _I don't care!_ You took us back here- we'd- w-we'd finally gotten out of here, we were going to go h- _home,_ and… _I'LL KILL YOU!"_ He lunged desperately, arms jerking out to grab at him but the straps held fast and he cried out again, rocking the narrow bed in his pitiful, impossible struggle. _"I'll kill you! I'LL KILL YOU!"_

He pulled at the straps once more, this time the motion one of hopeless defeat, and the rage contorting his face melted into nothing more than helpless misery. A loud, despairing noise came from his throat, a desperate cry muffled as he pressed his face into the pillow, slumping down, limbs falling limp- and Maes' heart just cracked.

He didn't know him. Roy was lying there, bound, injured, screaming, half-sobbing, pulling away from him but shouting death threats all the same-

And Roy didn't know him.

Roy didn't have the slightest idea who he was.

Maes slowly lowered his eyes to the floor, the sight of him suddenly too unbearable to even look at. His chest clenched and he raised a shaking, clammy hand to his mouth, mind racing with horror as his back hit the wall and his stomach churned. Roy didn't remember him at all.

He'd known Roy for over a _decade._ He and Roy had been friends since before he'd ever even met his wife, since before the war, since-

Roy was _terrified_ of him, and there was absolutely nothing Maes could do about it, because his best friend had absolutely no idea who he was.

 _And if Roy can't remember me, then there's a chance that Ed might not, either.  
_

Maes slumped even further back against the thin wall, his hands trembling worse.

He didn't know what had happened to them, and the more he was seeing about what they'd been through, the more he didn't want to find out.

"…what?"

Maes slowly lifted his gaze up, staring miserably back over at his best friend. Roy was still looking at him, piercing anguish and betrayal burning in his eyes, but- more uncertain than before… more _afraid_ of him than before… and something in Maes' chest lurched again. "What?" he asked hoarsely back. If Roy was talking to him, if Roy was even willing to give him a chance, he had to jump on that as fast as possible.

But Roy continued to just stare at him, equal parts fear and confusion mingling in his gaze. "Well? What do you _want?_ T-tell me- tell me what's going to happen! What you're going to do to us for escaping! Don't just-… are you just going to _sit there?!"_

Maes looked back at him, taken aback by just that horrible look on his face, that underlying pain in his voice. Roy didn't recognize him- and part of Maes couldn't even recognize him. As stubborn and angry and determined as he was, there was also vulnerability there, and fear, and hurt-

So much like Roy, and also, so much that he _wasn't._

And there was nothing Maes could do to try and comfort him.

"…look," he said at last, and his voice was a lot weaker than he wanted to admit, even to himself. "I know you- you don't have any reason to… trust us, Roy. But we don't want to do anything to you, okay? You _or_ Ed. You're safe now."

Maes hardly expected his words to have much success, though; Roy was too stubborn for his own good and in the current situation, he wasn't sure _anything_ from him would get through to him. And sure enough, the impassioned words barely got more than a flinch in the cold anger consuming Roy's eyes, his injured hands still clenched in fists and body coiled like he was a second away from fleeing if he'd just had the freedom to do it.

"Right," Roy spat back. " _Right."_ He jerked on the restraints again, glaring harder; the narrow bed groaned in protest but the straps held fast. "Because you've given me every reason to believe you."

"Roy, you tried to hurt people! You tried to hurt _yourself-_ you punched my _wife!"_ he cried, his own exhausted, fragile patience snapping in the face of Roy's violent, stubborn screaming. "I'm sorry, I'll let you go as soon as I can, but what would you have us do? Just let you go to sit back and watch as you burn the hospital down?" When there was no response, just more furious, hurt glaring, Maes sighed, dropping his hands down as he leaned back against the wall, lowering his gaze miserably to the floor. "We know you've been held in a hospital. We know it's not safe for you to be here. We're going to take you and Ed out of here and someplace safe as soon as possible, but right now you need treatment, and-"

"We don't need _anything_ you're going to do to us!" He kicked and struggled again, less as if he was trying to get free and more as if he just couldn't bear to lie still any longer, straining to grasp freedom and fight back. "We're not sick! We know your treatments are _lies!_ Do whatever you damn well want to us, we very clearly don't seem to be able to stop you- but don't you _dare_ try and pretend it's for our own benefits anymore!"

Mae, the words still just on the tip of his tongue, went silent again. His eyes widened.

That reaction was probably the first real insight he'd gotten, into just what exactly it was Ed and Roy had gone through.

It hadn't been a hospital just for show, then. They'd been treated like patients… or, mistreated, as it was. And based off what he and Gracia had seen… _psychiatric ward…_

God, it was worse than he'd imagined. He and Hawkeye were going to have to talk about this as soon as possible, and not just about that one name Roy had dropped- Justin. As soon as- well, as soon as he could get himself to leave Roy here alone, which, looking at how terrified and injured he was now, might not happen any time soon.

This was going to make it even more difficult to get through to either of them as long as they were here. Hell, Maes was very quickly beginning to believe such a thing was impossible.

"…okay, Roy," he said gently, glancing hesitantly back in his direction, doing everything he could to not seem like a threat. Which wasn't much, since that was exactly how Roy was determined to see him as. "But you are physically injured. You know that. Remember, Ed was just as badly burned as you- you would've died if we hadn't done anything."

Roy's brow furrowed, his dark eyes narrowing and for a split second, Maes thought the quiet, sensible words had gotten through to him. But then, next second, he was pulling away again, shaking his head and straining against the straps again, face a near snarl. "N-no- he-"

"He needed _help,_ Roy; you saw him, you know I'm not lying. I-" Maes broke off, sighing, trying to stay calm. He had to be very careful about how he went about this. "Just… just tell me what I can do, all right? I know you don't trust us yet, but- but if there's anything we can do to help, or, or if you want something, we'll-… we just want to help, Roy. Please…"

But it didn't look as if Roy was even letting himself consider it. Not the smallest possibility that Maes was anything but one of the people who'd hurt him. "Let me see Ed," Roy hissed, bandaged fists curling even tighter.

"I…" Maes groaned inwardly, his chest clenching miserably like he'd just been stabbed. He looked at Roy again, the bandages on his raw back, the fact that he was hurt enough that all he'd need to be pushed over the edge might just be one hard fall.

Knowing that he couldn't trust Roy right now not to take advantage of even one second of freedom, and bolt.

"Later, okay…?" he tried weakly. "You're hurt, too- I don't want to risk-"

" _Now!"_

"-and he's not even awake now, there's nothing-"

" _Now!"_

"-when you both feel better, I'll-"

" _NOW!"_

Maes fell uselessly silent again, staring over at Roy and once again feeling his hopes crash down around him.

There was nothing he could do. It was now very apparent _Ed_ was the measuring stick Roy needed here, and anything short of being with him and being able to protect him was something Roy wouldn't allow himself to even consider. And knowing even the little that he did, Maes was positive that was too risky to try. For all he knew, Roy just wanted to find out where Ed was so he could pick him up and get him out of here, and while Maes knew he'd never make it past the forming security detail- that also wasn't the point, was it?

They were both badly injured, to the point that being tackled and forced to the ground would not only cause a great amount of pain, but could actually seriously hurt them. Roy, at least, was scared out of his mind, and Maes was growing more and more worried Ed would be the exact same way.

Being wrestled down to the floor and trapped on his face by a group of unyielding soldiers, in terrible pain, Ed being wrestled away from him, was probably not the best way to start to gain his trust.

"Roy," he said gently, trying to meet his fierce but terrified eyes again. "In a couple days, when you're a little better, we're going to get you and Ed out of here to somewhere safe- then, you can be with him as much as you want, okay?" It'd be hard, but he'd _make it_ work, Maes determined. Once out of the hospital and there weren't innocent bystanders for Roy to potentially harm, once they could better control his surroundings to stop Roy from hurting himself- he'd make it work. Anything, if it helped his best friend feel safer. "But… I'm sorry, but it's too dangerous now. You could hurt yourself," _or might purposefully even try to,_ "and I want to keep you safe. I'm sorry."

Maes braced himself then, curling almost imperceptibly against the wall as he waited for the anger and the resistance. He prepared himself for more shouted protests and fighting against the restraints and his best friend looking at him like he was a monster. Roy may not have known him right now, but he did know Roy, and he knew his best friend was going to take these words as just another nail on the coffin. As much as Maes wanted to get through to him now, to be able to untie him and be a friend for him when he needed it most…

This was just something that had to be done. As much as it hurt both of them to do it.

Roy, however, did not do any of those things.

The colonel looked at him blankly for several moments, exhausted and pained eyes still wide, face hostile and closed off- and then he, too, just slumped with a sigh, He closed his eyes, not in sleep but in a stubborn denial to even acknowledge his presence any further, falling as limp as he could with angry fatigue etched into his face- and that was that.

It wasn't the continued protests and screaming he'd been preparing himself for. It was worse.

He was giving up.

Maes' throat tightened, his hands shaking, and he found himself helpless to do anything more than just stare.

It was intensely saddening to wonder how many times Roy had been faced with this exact same scenario already that he'd already given up so easily, defeat clouding his drawn face, and he found himself faced with a mix of such sorrow and rage he didn't know whether to scream or to cry.

"…if you need anything," he sighed at last, "I'm- Maes. M-Maes Hughes." _And I'm not going anywhere,_ he wanted to add after that- but it would be of no comfort to Roy, at the moment.

It was of no comfort to Maes, either, when his best friend just kept his eyes shut, and refused to acknowledge him with anything more.


	19. Chapter 19

Thank you guys all so much for reviewing! Also, we have now reached the point where my prewritten material has run out, because I suck, so this is the last chapter I have written. I'm still _hoping_ to keep to my update schedule (this has happened before in the past and I've still managed to) but there's a bit of a higher chance chapters might be delayed in the future. Sorry about that :/

* * *

The days from there, contrary to how Maes had hoped, did not go well.

Ed- and this was only if they were being optimistic about it, fell prey to an infection after all. The doctor assured them it was all but expected, that they'd caught it in time and not to be worried. Maes, of course, was not the only one worried half to death by the development- but there were upsides to it, too, as reluctant as he was to acknowledge them.

Ed was… not totally incoherent, at least. Delirious? Perhaps. Like himself? Absolutely not. They hadn't had to restrain him, like Roy, but that wasn't necessarily a good sign- Ed wasn't fighting them, but he wasn't welcoming their presence, either, or any more accepting of what was going on than Roy was.

He wouldn't talk to them. He'd barely even look at them. He usually just lay there on his stomach, curled up and shivering in pain, head turned away from them and expression shrouded with such defeat Maes could barely stand to look. He, like Roy, wouldn't respond to their attempts to talk to him… but unlike Roy, would flinch away so badly whenever anyone tried to touch him that they'd stopped trying.

He was feverish now, and heavily medicated… though the drugs had done very little to calm him down. It seemed, however, that the severity of his burns, the infection, and the medication he was on had been enough to sideline him while Roy was still up and kicking- figuratively speaking- but even through all of this, they'd been able to talk to the kid enough to realize one thing.

He didn't remember them, either.

Ed didn't have the slightest clue who they were.

Roy, too, had made no progress on that front. And Roy was on as few drugs as the doctors dared; just a prophylactic to protect against infection and a light painkiller, as close to lucid as they could've hoped for- and remembered them as well as Ed did. That was to say, not at all.

By this point, they had no idea what to think.

A blow to the head? Pretty unlikely, if _both_ Ed and Roy remembered _nothing_ about who they were. The drugs they'd been on, wherever they'd been held captive before it? Unlikely, too; Maes knew some substances could blur recollection, destroy short term memory- but again, for both Ed and Roy to remember nothing at all? He'd never heard of anything like it, and the doctor, when they asked him, hadn't either.

Maes' only guess, at this point, was some form of alchemy.

The rest of the team agreed with him as the most likely outcome; even Falman, with his near encyclopedic knowledge of, well, everything, agreed that that was the only explanation that even sounded plausible. It was also the answer Maes was desperately hoping for- after all, if there was an array that inflict this damage on them- well, then there also had to be an array that could undo it.

The problem was, the only members of the team who knew enough about alchemy to be of any help were Ed, Al, and Roy.

They hadn't been able to even get in contact with Al thus far, and Ed and Roy weren't talking.

Maes sighed heavily, leaning exhaustedly against the wall as he started stirring his cup of hospital coffee. What another miserable, hopeless day.

He saw Hawkeye approaching out of the corner of his eye, looking just as sleep-deprived, low down, and downright unhappy as he was. He raised his cup at her in greeting anyway, giving her a small, weak sort of grimace of a smile. "Morning," he said, and wasn't entirely surprised when she managed little more than a wordless murmur in response. "Sleep well?"

"Hardly, sir."

"Right," he sighed, what little bits of a smile that he'd managed to piece together falling. "Can't say I'm doing any better, honestly. One more day of this, I suppose…"

Hawkeye nodded stoically back, all but expressionless- but he saw the flicker in her eyes, all the same, and knew she was just as affected as he was.

This was set to be the last day in the hospital for them, one way or the other. They were both still badly injured, Ed still sick, Roy's wet coughs were only getting worse by the hour- but it was to the point Maes didn't think they had another choice.

Being in this hospital was making them worse. _Both_ of them. If there was any hope for getting Ed and Roy to trust them, it was fast dwindling, and the only way Maes could see to change that was to either get Al down here and figure out how to do something about their memories, or to get them both out of here now. The second choice was the only option they had.

"You have everything set up, then, sir?"

He nodded to her again, glancing listlessly back down at his coffee. "I confirmed everything early this morning." So early, in fact, most of the city had still been asleep, and he'd desperately wanted to be, too- but that was neither here nor there, at this point. "A private ambulance company will take care of the transport a bit before midnight tonight; one of us will be able to ride along with each of them. Madam Christmas'll be ready and waiting, and Knox has… reluctantly agreed… to lend us his services for as long as Ed and Roy need them." Roy's foster mother, of course, had been more than willing to keep the two alchemists safely hidden in her bar; Knox had been a bit less enthusiastic but, in the end, had been convinced- or coerced. "As for the military, considering the current circumstances, I think we're going to have to report to _somebody_ soon. Grumman, maybe. I know we can't be sure none of the higher ups are involved, but…"

Hawkeye nodded grimly, casting a surreptitious glance around the all but deserted hall in a move that looked closer to paranoia than righteous suspicion. "I'm not really concerned with the military at the moment, sir. General Hakuro can throw a fit all day long if he wants; neither one of them is is any shape to be fighting right now, or going anywhere but Madam Christmas' bar."

"If they even _can,"_ Maes pointed out sadly, although couldn't help but agree with her; the military was just going to have to throw all their bitch fits at him, because Ed and Roy weren't going anywhere near them. "I'm not saying Ed doesn't terrify me regardless, but isn't his alchemy sort've… contingent, on having his automail? And Roy- well, I don't know how alchemy works, but if he- if he doesn't remember anything about his array, can he even use it? I don't know…" He scratched uncomfortably at the back of his neck, staring back down into his coffee. "I'm just hope we've managed to make some progress with them before a meeting with Hakuro is staring us in our faces."

Hawkeye answered him with another silent nod, tense gaze still darting around the hallway suspiciously and making it appear as if she was only half-listening. It was hard for Maes to really be offended. After all, she was just as exhausted and strained as he was- and had the added burden of running the security detail. Not to mention, in the absence of her superior officer, or, at least, one with a sound mind or body, she had taken command of the rest of Roy's staff… it had to be a lot to take in.

Speaking of which…

"Have you talked to Roy yet?"

He already knew the answer. And even if he hadn't, the reflexive, quiet shadow that swept across her strained features confirmed it for him- and even then, as unnecessary as it was, she still shook her head. Eyes averted down to the floor, hands clenching uncharacteristically tight, a wave of something almost like guilt darkening her eyes again…

He'd have felt worse for bringing it up, if he hadn't already known it was necessary.

"It'll be easier at his aunt's place, I think," he said sympathetically. "Maybe he'll give us a chance there, don't you think?"

"Yes, sir," she murmured- but he could hear in her voice, that she still did not believe him.

Hawkeye, so far, had not stepped inside Roy's room even once.

It was a delicate situation. At first, Maes hadn't even noticed; with Hawkeye running the security detail, it wasn't as if she'd spent much time nervously fidgeting outside Roy's room but not stepping inside. But then one day had passed, and then another, and then he'd realized- and then, he'd understood.

She was avoiding him.

Roy, still in pain, tied down, and scared of them all- Roy, still looking at Maes like he was a criminal, with anger and hate in his eyes…

Hawkeye just didn't want to see him like that.

Maes, after spending so many endless hours in that claustrophobic room, wincing with every venomous glare Roy turned in his direction, couldn't blame her. And it had to be even worse for her. He was Roy's best friend- but she was his bodyguard. She was supposed to make sure nothing like this ever happened to him. Maes didn't blame her for any of this, of course, but- he could only imagine how much she blamed herself.

"Don't worry," he assured her gently, and with far more warm confidence than he could really feel. "Once Al gets back, I'm sure we'll be able to figure something out. They won't be like this forever. We'll take care of them."

"Yes, sir," she said again, even more quietly than before- and it was only because he knew her as well as he did that he heard the tiny waver of fear, lurking just behind the words.

She was just as scared as he was. And he couldn't blame her one bit for it.

* * *

When Ed was finally awake enough to be called coherent, it was, as they'd all expected, not something that brought good news.

Jean wasn't surprised.

He'd been Ed's bodyguard the past three days, trading off with Breda during the day to either stand guard in the hallway or in the room right beside him, or with two members of Hughes' staff during the night. He'd tried to be optimistic, for everyone else's sakes- but he'd heard how depressingly badly Mustang was doing, and he'd seen Ed with his own two eyes as he recovered- so he'd lost any chance for high hopes a long time ago.

Sure enough, that third day, what Hughes had ordered would be the last day in the hospital, Jean started his shift and walked in to Ed, as usual, curled away from him and face hidden in his one arm. He was on his stomach, also as usual; small mercies, he supposed- but at least he was aware enough to try and keep off the burns on his back.

The same couldn't be said for the colonel. From what he'd heard, he was pulling so hard at the restraints the doctors were worried the'd wind up needing to reset his already broken arm.

"Hey, Ed," he said brightly upon entering, the same as he had every day. He started to sit down hesitantly, slinging his jacket off his shoulders around the back of the chair as he watched Ed, hoping for some sign he was being listened to, or at least acknowledged. "It's me, again. Havoc."

Ed whimpered something softly into the bed, curling a little more away. He hid his face again, burying it in his hair, and Jean's breath caught painfully.

"…so," he went on, pushing the chair a little closer to the bed. He wasn't sure how much progress he was going to make on this point, but he at least wanted to try. "Ed, remember how we told you we were going to try and get you out of the hospital as soon as we could?"

No answer. Unless the second muffled whimper counted as a response.

"R- right," he sighed. "Well… we're doing that. Today."

Still, nothing.

Jean grimaced, narrowing his eyes as he glanced up and down Ed's suspiciously still form. It wasn't that he'd really hoped this would make much progress- but, telling him what was going on, whether or not he showed any sign of listening… that had to help, right? Surely nobody would've bothered to tell him what was going on before. At the very least, it couldn't hurt.

Well, that was what he'd been going for, here. That didn't mean it was actually going to work.

He signed, sitting back unhappily in the uncomfortable chair, fingering at an unlit cigarette. Making conversation, as he'd learned just on the first day, was pretty much doomed to be a failed effort. Sometimes, when he'd been drugged and feverish and ill, Ed would say things, but never in a manner that would've supported a two-way conversation. Muttering in his sleep, more like it, mostly his brother's name and Roy's, over and over, but when Jean would try to talk to him, he never got an answer back.

Sometimes, it was soft, plaintive pleas. Murmurs begging to not be touched. Whimpers, for them to stay away.

Jean's heart clenched at the mere memory, and he sank back into the chair again, staring down at Ed and trying to keep his breaths calm.

Those moments, however lucky or not, were rare. In Ed's more lucid moments, the few times Jean had managed to catch him both awake and coherent, he wouldn't say anything at all.

Just curl up on his stomach, pulled away from them all, and hide his face in his arm.

He sighed, looking down at the increasingly familiar, increasingly horrible sight, and just hoped things would look up tomorrow.

Jean had gotten pretty familiar with the hospital's schedule, by this point; his shift started with an hour of nothing, just sitting in Ed's room to watch him, drink coffee, and guard him against nothing more than ghosts. That hour then led into the morning nurse coming in to check on Ed and clean the burns, a procedure which seemed to go badly regardless of whether Ed was coherent or not, a procedure that Jean had grown to dread, the more experience he'd gotten watching it.

So when that morning's nurse headed into the room after being screened by Breda, the apprehension already settling in his stomach hardened into a leaden ball.

They shared an uneasy smile, both of them knowing what was coming now and neither looking forward to it in the slightest. "Good morning, Lieutenant," she said, glancing uncertainly down at Ed as if something might've changed, since the last time she'd seen him; of course, there was no change at all, and hesitation flickered in her eyes again. "How is he?"

"Same," Jean sighed heavily, pushing upright to move out of her way. "Don't think he's said anything all day."

The nurse nodded reluctantly, not looking very surprised. She moved closer to Ed, this time not even trying to talk to him as she carefully moved the hospital shirt out of the way- seemed she'd all but given up on getting her patient to talk to her. Jean couldn't say he blamed her, after everything he'd seen from Ed, these past few days. He wouldn't admit it aloud, but he was starting to lose hope, too.

He shifted uncomfortably, averting his gaze as she worked. He'd never felt comfortable at this part, standing there to the side to stare down at Ed's bare back… or what was left of it… would've been so much more at ease awkwardly excusing himself to let him keep the embarrassing medical exam private- but he wasn't just here was a friend, he was here to protect Ed. Leaving the room was out of the question.

So Jean had to stand there, sure of himself and steady, and watch as Ed slowly broke down.

He flinched the second the gloved hands touched gently at his back, clearly unable to ignore the pain no matter how hard he was trying to block them out. Jean tried not to look at what the nurse was doing, instead focusing on Ed as he tensed and whimpered at the burns being touched. At first he thought it was just the physical pain, which had to be nearly excruciating- but then…

"No," Ed whispered. "No… please…" He flinched further away from the nurse, not badly enough to disrupt her work, but it was bad _enough._ "P-please…" One shaking arm slipped away, falling to curl around the bedrail and grip it tight, fingers clinging to the metal as he begged again, pleading under his breath to just be left alone. "Please, _stop…"_

Jean's eyes widened.

He was trying to stop the nurse from taking him away.

He'd given up fighting back and was instead just clinging to the hospital bed, clutching himself to the bedrail in a last ditch effort to not be pulled away from what was probably the only thing in the room he still knew.

Jean gritted his teeth, thinking back to the way the colonel had quit even trying to fight them entirely.

This was a lot worse than they'd ever imagined.

Before he really knew what he was doing, definitely before he'd thought about it, Jean swung around to crouch down by his head, trying to meet his eyes even though Ed was desperately trying not to look at him. "Hey, listen to me," he pleaded, no matter how sure he was Ed was desperately trying not to hear him, either. "I know it hurts, but we're just trying to help you, okay? She'll be done in a few minutes. She's not going to do anything to you, Ed, come on, just try and calm down…"

But Ed wouldn't even _look_ at him.

"Leave me alone," he all but whimpered. The nurse must've made some sort of move he didn't like because next second, he'd pulled himself against the bedrail even tighter and shook his head violently, tossing his long hair out just enough to hide his face in it. "Leave me alone, please… d-don't- don't make me go back there… don't… _don't…"_

"We won't, remember? We're getting you out of the hospital tonight, Ed, promise, we'll-"

"Roy…"

"W… what?" he asked unsteadily, mouth dry. "Roy's- he's fine-"

"R- Roy," Ed whimpered again. "I- I w-want- Roy…"

Jean froze again.

"We'll… we'll get him to you, Ed," he managed after several months, torn. Hughes' orders weighed heavily on his mind, that Mustang was not allowed out of his room both for his own safety and for the safety of the hospital staff- but did that apply to Ed? He hadn't been coherent enough thus far for Jean, at least, to feel okay about just stuffing Ed into a wheelchair and shepherding him a few rooms down… but here he was, outright asking for the colonel. That had to mean _something!_ "Remember, we're taking you somewhere else tonight; you'll see him then! You'll-"

"Please don't hurt him," Ed abruptly begged, shuddering at the further touches on his back but his eyes were open again, and Jean's breath caught when he realized Ed was actually looking right at him and speaking _to him_ for the first time in days. "It was- it was my fault, I m-made him do this, I made him run… don't hurt him, _please…"_

"He's- he's _not_ hurt, Ed," he stumbled, because that was a flat out lie, but he just didn't know how else to get through to him. "Mustang's fine, you'll see, okay? He's-"

"D-don't- send me b-back there- I- I-" The words dissolved into another broken gasp, his hand still clutched around the bedrail though but he continued to make no attempt to actually fight back or pull away, still just looking at Jean with this horrible mix of fear but vulnerability in his eyes. "I- just d-don't hurt Roy, _please,_ it wasn't his fault, but I- I don't want to g-go back there-"

Jean crouched there anxiously, hands suddenly clammy as his mind raced. How on earth was he supposed to try and calm him down? Ed, he realized, was talking to him, trying to plead this with him- not just because he was scared or in pain, but because he honestly thought Jean was in control here. He thought he was one his captors, or, at the very least, did not realize or believe he was only here to help him.

And if that was the case, it meant two things.

The first? Ed absolutely did not remember him.

The second?

There was nothing Jean could try and say that would help. Nothing he said would get through to him, just based off the simple fact that Ed was trying to bargain or beg something from his captor, and that wasn't who Jean was.

The nurse finally left, finishing up just like she always did and pulling away from them without another word, seeming slightly uncomfortable by the situation and just wanting to remove herself from it as quickly as possible. Jean was grateful, to some degree; cleaning the burns had to have hurt, and besides, medical staff seemed to put Ed on edge, which was the last thing they needed now- but Ed didn't seem to relax even now that she'd gone. He just kept staring up at Jean with wide, stricken eyes, his words near incoherent now, just wanting the colonel, not wanting to go back _there-_ wherever _there_ was- and Jean had no idea what to say to him. If _Hughes,_ the Colonel's best friend, hadn't been able to make any progress so far- what hope did Jean have with Ed? Ed, who seemed to be in far worse condition than Mustang, by this point…

 _Should_ he speak to Hughes about this? See if he could get Ed down to see the Colonel? He understood Mustang being kept in his room, but Ed had not yet shown any reason to be under the same restriction, and it could only help, couldn't it? But, Ed _was_ still badly hurt… not to the point that Jean doubted their ability to keep him safe, just moving him a few rooms down- but, fact was, Ed was probably primed to be as openly hostile to them as Mustang already was. There was no guarantee Ed would remain as docile as he was.

But, hell, they were going to have to let them see each other _sometime…_

"Ed, listen to me," he started to plead again, reaching a hesitant hand forward. "Mustang- Roy's fine, okay? And so are you. Just give it a few more hours, all right, and I'll try and get you over to see him. I promise, we don't want to hurt you, here…"

But Ed just stared at him as if he didn't understand his words- just couldn't conceptualize the idea of him actually wanting to help him. He continued to clutch onto the bedrail as if his life depended on it, he kept on shivering, and-

And there just wasn't anything Jean could do.

The door to Ed's room opened again, this time not for a nurse but for Falman. Who, admittedly, looked just as uncomfortable to be in here as the nurse had. Sighing, Jean pushed himself to his feet, giving him an unhappy look as he moved a few steps away from Ed; maybe with the attention turned off him, he'd be able to calm down a little. "What's up?"

Falman grimaced awkwardly, seeming torn between looking at him or down at the trembling, stricken alchemist in between them. "It's Fuery. He finally managed to locate Alphonse… waiting on the phone in the hallway right now. Should we… er…"

Jean's hopes fell even further, his stomach dropping.

The plan- the initial plan, anyway- had been for them to get in contact with Al, then just pass the phone straight over to Ed, the way they'd known both brothers would want. Of course, that plan had been made before they'd realized the real gravity of the situation, and that not only would Ed be unable to recognize Al, but Al, too, would end up being hurt far more than necessary. It had taken them this long to _finally_ manage to get a phone call through to Al in the first place- wouldn't it just be kinder to tell Al his brother was asleep for now, let him get to Central before they dropped the horrible reality down on him?

Whatever they were going to tell Al, it was obvious their original hopes of allowing the brothers to talk to each other were dashed.

"Just… just tell him we'll see him soon," Jean sighed, all but defeated. "Don't tell Al about… about…" _How bad it's gotten._ "…you know."

Falman sighed too, giving him a grim nod back. "Right away," he murmured, taking a step back. He didn't look surprised by the answer, just disappointed- and Jean couldn't blame him.

Falman took another step back towards the door, already starting to avert his eyes, and Jean moved to sit down as well, shoulders slumping as he curled his hands loosely together in his lap-

Only to see Ed, looking up at them with wide, shocked eyes, his messy hair pushed away from his face as his gaze moved between them- and for the first time, Jean could see something there that wasn't open hostility or terror.

"Did…" He stopped, voice wavering, throat jumping, and curled up just a little more, pulling back away from them but still staring up at them in something near wonderment. "Did you s-say… Al?"

Jean blinked. He stared down at Ed, taken aback by look in his eyes, then glanced over at Falman only to see him looking just as surprised as he felt.

"Do you know who Al is?" Ed asked, speaking up again in a voice that was almost smaller than before. "H-he's… you said…" He turned to Falman, clutching miserably at the blankets. "You said he's on the phone?"

Jean and Falman stared blankly at each other again.

"Y- yeah," Jean finally got himself to stammer, sinking carefully down onto the edge of the hospital bed to try and look him a little more in the eyes. He hesitated, unsure of what to say. "Do you… want to talk to him?"

Did this mean Ed remembered Al?!

Ed hesitated again, looking between the both of them with those horrified eyes still, the fear on his face all but unrecognizable in the confident, powerful teen Jean had once known; even then he squirmed back another inch, looking just like he wanted to be further away from them. "I… Al's…" he mumbled, more to himself than them. "I- can I? If- don't hurt Roy, if you'll hurt him for it then _no,_ leave him alone, but… Al?" He leaned desperately, eyes widening as if he might be able to see Al behind Falman if he looked close enough, then jerked back around to stare at Jean.

"Can I see Al?" he asked desperately again, and the look in his eyes made the decision for him.

"Falman, tell Fuery to hold that phone call."

The warrant officer hesitated in the doorway, even as he stepped backwards to comply. "Lieutenant Colonel Hughes said-"

"Hughes has been so busy with Mustang he hasn't had time to really evaluate Ed. Besides, the situation's changed." He paused, glancing tersely over Ed's bandaged form as he swung around the bed, heading for the wheelchair the nurses had left in the room, _just because._ Just because, what; he'd had no idea until now, but Ed hadn't been going anywhere until now- and now, he was. "Here, Ed," he rushed, hurrying back over to him and holding a hand out.

Ed balked.

Again.

He reeled backwards, swaying in his already slumped position and suddenly shivering worse, near panicked gaze locking first on the wheelchair, then sweeping back to Jean. His hand clenched back in the blankets, his feverish features going the color of sour milk, and for a moment, he looked like he was about to throw up.

"…Ed?" Jean asked worriedly, hand still held out.

He flinched backwards again, mouth opening and closing spasmodically, saying nothing.

Then, after several unexplained, impossible moments, Ed started to crawl forward to swing himself into the chair.

He completely rejected Jean's outstretched hand, which didn't go unnoticed, but Jean honestly wasn't too surprised. He also noticed, however, the fact that the kid was shivering even worse than before, flinching like even touching the chair hurt and in ways that Jean seriously doubted had anything to do with the burns, and when he finally settled, it was in such a small, withdrawn, defeated slump he looked like he wanted to just crawl into a hole and die.

Jean swallowed uncomfortably, sharing another worried look with Falman.

It wasn't that Ed had ever really been a big fan of wheelchairs, granted… if anyone could ever be called that… but this was a bit over the line, wasn't it?

Hell, Ed was now shaking so hard Jean was a bit worried he was going to wind up hurting himself.

But it was a bit too late to backtrack now.

Jean got behind the wheelchair, pushing as quickly as he could without risking Ed getting toppled down onto the floor. Falman led the way into the hallway, but it wasn't necessary; the instant they stepped outside he saw Fuery waiting down the hall where he'd commandeered the hospital phone, standing there anxiously and clenching the cord in his hands. His eyes widened when he saw the two of them; Jean found himself unable to do more than give him a guardedly hopeful look as he hurried Ed forward, taking him over to the pay phone to wait, and hope.

Ed, for several seconds, did nothing. Just stared at the phone with such a look of trepidation it was as if he expected it to grow teeth and bite him.

But then, trembling, anxious, and obviously near terrified, Ed reached an uncertain hand out, and pulled the phone over to his ear.

"H… hello?" he rasped weakly.

Al's scream of _BROTHER!_ was so loud, every gathered member of Mustang's staff heard it, and poor Ed looked like he'd just been punched across the face.

Al went on, then; Jean couldn't hear the words anymore, just frantic, high-pitched babbling cracking over the phone lines and into Ed's ear, but the specifics didn't matter. He glanced over at the rest of the team- even Breda had wondered over now- and shared a weak smile with them all before looking back down at Ed, who was sitting there with his brother shouting in his ears and looking so shellshocked he didn't know what to do with himself. But he didn't look terrified anymore, or nervous about the wheelchair or the hospital… he just sat there, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, and listening to Al yell at him.

It took a minute, perhaps, for Al's ranting to finally calm, perhaps the equivalent of Al taking a break for air- and when he did, that was when Ed finally spoke.

"Y-you're…" He stopped, trembling harder, mouth quivering and voice nearly breaking. "You're… my- brother." He stopped again, eyes widening. "I have a brother."

Then, phone still clutched to his face, breaths still broken, the shock in his melted into what Jean could only constitute as relief- and Ed all but burst into tears, right there in the middle of the hallway.

* * *

As usual, Roy found his cell of a hospital room to be dominated by an uncomfortable silence.

Roy continued to glare furiously out the window, refusing to say a word or even look at the man sitting by his side. It was Maes, again- or at least, that was what he called himself. Roy still doubted even that much was true. Whatever his name, Roy didn't like him. He was constantly talking. Constantly trying to convince him to let his guard down. Begging him to just stop fighting them _(behave),_ promising they'd take the restraints off, swearing he was _safe..._

Safe.

Ha.

He'd let them right back into the lion's den, going to that bastard's home.

 _Safe._

Maes had been talking to him earlier today, again. This time the message had differed from the normal; this time, Maes had told him that they were going to move him and Ed tonight. They were going to be taken out of the hospital, and brought somewhere he called _safe._ Maes promised he would see Ed then.

Roy wasn't sure what was really going on; only that it was nothing good and he should be scared of it. But if it got him closer to Ed, he was just going to keep his mouth shut. This had been an easy couple of days, granted… they'd never tried to force him to use that array then beat the tar out of him when he couldn't. They'd never half-drowned him and laughed at him while he suffocated. They'd never done _anything,_ really, besides just leave him restrained to the bed and tend to the burns- Roy figured that was the main reason for the change in treatment. The burns. They'd needed to take care of him and Ed for once, make sure they didn't die before returning to abusing them.

He didn't really give a damn what their reasoning was, at this point.

He was getting Ed and getting the hell out of here at the first opportunity, and if this _Maes_ kept standing in his way, he'd take care of him the way he'd taken care of everyone else.

Another hot burst of pain burned into his back and Roy choked back a gasp, tensing and gritting his teeth to keep silent. He glared reflexively at Maes because the nurse, silently cleaning at the burns on his back, wasn't an option; Maes, as he was growing very used to, just sat there uncomfortably, looking as if he'd give about anything to not be in the room at this moment.

His back hurt constantly. His hands hurt constantly, too. His chest hurt with every labored breath. It was all still so much easier than it had been; for the first time in weeks he'd actually been given the chance to _heal_ , it felt so much better now- but Roy knew getting used to it was dangerous. He knew it was set to get worse any day now, as tired of this as he was, no matter that he was just too _exhausted_ to take anymore, no matter how much he just wanted to- to go _home-_

He didn't have a choice.

He _had_ to keep fighting.

The nurse at his back moved around him again, this time moving to refill the medication drip pouring into his arm. Roy couldn't help but flinch back again, stomach squirming sickeningly, entire body jolting with revulsion.

He was so _tired_ of being drugged against his will.

"…What are you giving him?"

Roy flinched again, his eyes jerking back up to look at Maes.

Maes was watching the nurse, not him, something unhappy or reluctant in his glasses, not even meeting his eyes. The nurse paused, too; Roy couldn't twist enough to look at her without making a fool of himself, and his pride was about all he had anymore now that Ed was taken away from him, so he held perfectly still, waiting with anxiously bated breath for the answer.

"Just- just some painkillers and an antibiotic, sir," she said after a moment, clearly ill at ease. "We're upping his painkillers, a little. The pneumonia's getting worse."

Roy scoffed under his breath, rolling his eyes. _Maybe you should've thought of that before you drowned me, assholes,_ he remarked inwardly, every bit of him aching with revulsion and disgust and anger, but he kept his mouth shut and just continued to glare.

Maes paused, grimacing slightly like he'd just eaten something distinctly unpleasant. He looked back at Roy, meeting his eyes again before faltering, shrinking slightly in his seat and hands twitching in his lap. "Roy, it's to help you. Really, it is. You're sick; it's just medicine, Roy…"

"I don't want your damn _medicine,"_ he finally spat, voice barely a guttural growl from disuse as he tensed again, curling his fists and ready to fight against the restraints. "Did we not make that clear enough by now? Shove it down your own throats."

Maes, if possible, just looked more pained than before. Not angry at him, or annoyed, or that subtle glint of vile hatred he always glimpsed in the guards' eyes before a fist slammed into his skull or a hand shoved his face beneath the water. Just- just pained. Unhappy.

Sad.

"Can you…" Maes hesitated, clearing his throat, eyes darting between him and the nurse at his back. "Can you just give him the antibiotics, then?"

Both Roy and the nurse stopped.

His eyes widened.

Maes glanced back down to meet his eyes again, another saddened grimace pulling down at his mouth. "Look, you need the antibiotics. I'm sorry if you don't want to take them, Roy, but you have to. But you don't _need_ the painkillers, and- and I'm guessing that you really don't want them. If you do, _please_ just say so, but…" He shrugged miserably, averting his eyes again. "If you don't want something, then I don't want to force it on you. So if you don't want painkillers, I won't make you take them."

Roy stared in complete disbelief.

He… well, no. He _didn't_ want painkillers. He didn't want any drugs at all, but those- well, he was pretty well used to the physical pain, by this point, and he was also used to being drugged, and he would take the pain any day of the week. At least he'd still have agency, then. At least he'd still be able to be cognizant and aware of what was happening to him. At least he'd still be _himself._

He just didn't know what to do now that he was suddenly being offered it.

Why-

Why weren't they making him take them?

Why were they acting like he had a choice?

Because it didn't make any _sense._

Why give him a choice now after _everything else;_ why act like what he wanted _mattered_ when they'd tied him down to a hospital bed and wouldn't let him see Ed? Why was that man trying to act like he was his friend?! He _wasn't!_ He'd forced him and Ed back here to this hospital, it was _his fault_ their one chance at freedom had failed, it was his fault he and Ed were going to die here, why the hell was he trying to lie and win him over now?! It was too late for that!

But Maes just kept staring at him, that sad light in his eyes never fading, and somehow, he looked even _sadder_ when the nurse finally acquiesced and stepped away to leave him less drugged than before. That _thing_ was still in his arm, pouring drugs into him, but if Maes was to be believed it was less medication than before, at least- hell; he probably _wasn't_ to be believed, he probably was just lying to try and soften him up, force him to start trusting him- well, Roy wasn't going to buy it. These people had hurt Ed. These people had forced them back into this hospital. These people had had hurt them _both._

He wouldn't believe this.

He- he _couldn't_ let himself risk believing this.

Maes looked at him again when the nurse left the room, eyes intensely sad and reluctant. "That should be better, but… but _please_ speak up if it gets to be too much, okay? I know you're stubborn, but you're hurt all over, Roy, and you shouldn't make yourself suffer just to prove a point."

Roy shook his head violently again, turning his gaze away and refusing to look at him even as his stomach churned. Suffer to prove a _point?_ So not wanting to be drugged into oblivion now, drugged so heavily he couldn't remember his own name- that was just him wanting to prove a point now?!

Roy just wanted him to shut up, now. Just shut his mouth and stop talking and stop making him think and feel these things that he couldn't bear to face. But he _wouldn't._

Maes just never stopped talking.

"Roy, please. You came to my house, you came to _me_ asking _me_ for help- you have to trust me, at least on some level! That means something, right? Why else would you have sought me out?!"

Roy's breath caught painfully again, eyes squeezing shut and bandaged hands clenching into bleeding fists. The words meant nothing. So- so he didn't have an answer. So he _had_ no explanation, for why he'd gone to that man's house… because he'd thought at the time- god, he'd thought he was doing the right thing. He'd thought he was going somewhere safe.

Home.

But- no, it didn't matter what he'd _thought!_ He'd thought it was safe, yes; he'd risked taking Ed there- and how had that ended up? Maes had forced them both back to this hospital. He'd taken Ed from him.

Roy didn't know how or why he'd found his way to that man's home, but it didn't matter. All he knew was that he was back in the hospital he'd risked everything to break out of, and Ed was gone.

That was all that mattered.

"Roy," Maes started quietly again, " _please-"_

The door to his room swung open, and Roy flinched. No matter how much he wanted to keep up his stubborn, unaffected facade, he couldn't help but turn his head, looking towards the sound and glaring even more when he saw the source. It was one of those others. The blond one. One of the guards that normally stood outside his room, but sometimes dragged himself in here, normally with an unlit cigarette and a sad, mournful sort of stare. Roy turned his head away again, as far as he could while still managing to keep the new threat in his line of sight.

"Sirs," the new one ventured hesitantly, subdued and quiet. He hung back by the door, seeming almost as if he was trying to avoid looking at him.

Maes sat up straighter, turning to stare at him. "Lieutenant, what are you doing here? I thought you were watching..." He trailed off with an uneasy glance in Roy's direction, not finishing his sentence.

Roy tensed, hands squeezing into fists so tight it hurt.

 _Fullmetal._

The man shrugged uneasily. "Yeah, I was, but then- it's complicated, I guess... he's doing better now, though. I'm not sure what happened, but he's a lot calmer. The Boss actually gave me a message, for the colonel here." He, too, glanced in Roy's direction, showcasing a weak little smile- one that died very quickly, when Roy still glared at the wall rather than at him. He wouldn't give his jailers even that respect.

When he wouldn't look at him, the lieutenant sighed, shoulders slumping. "Okay," he said quietly, quite plainly unhappy about it but at least not going to try to force him. "Colonel." He straightened, looking right at him. "Ed says to tell you, and I quote... 'it's okay. They're friends. Al is with them.'"

Roy froze.

 _...Al?_

"What?"

The croaked gasp came from his throat before he could stop it, and he twisted to stare at the men before he could stop that, either, struck with such force he couldn't think. Al. _Al._

Fullmetal's home. Fullmetal's family.

But if they knew about Al…

The lieutenant shifted a little under his sudden gaze, almost uncomfortable. "Yeah... Al." He bit his lip. "Ed thought it would mean something to you…"

If they knew about Al…

Suddenly Maes was there, leaning close to him with eyes almost overly bright and eager, pale hands shaking even as he clenched them in his lap. "Do you remember him, Roy? Al? Alphonse? Do you remember Al?" he pressed urgently, but Roy could barely hear him over the roar in his own head.

They were telling him about Al. Right now, to his face, telling him about Al, as if Ed was trying to pass the message to him. And his first reaction was to try and believe it was just fake, they were trying to trick him, but- why _now?_ Three days after they'd ended up here? Why wait? Why wait so long to try and win him over; it should've been obvious from day one he didn't trust them, wouldn't believe their lies- why would they have waited so long to try and lie about this?

And…

And _could they,_ have even lied about this?

They'd never said anything about Al before. Never once had any of the doctors and nurses said a single word about Al. In fact, it had always been the exact opposite; the hospital staff had told them both they'd had _nobody._ No friends, no loved ones, no family. The hospital had always told them that there was no one out there for them… Roy knew damn well they had never _once_ said the name Al to them in the entirety of the months they'd been here.

He didn't even think they knew who Al was.

And if they didn't know who Al was… if that lieutenant in the doorway was telling him that Ed wanted him to know about Al, that Al was with him…

"Roy…?"

Roy found himself turning towards Maes by instinct alone, only to be stopped flat by the look on his face. That look on his face... that bright, desperate, painful sort of a smile; that glimmer of anguished hope in his eyes... not the pitying, superior sighs of the nurses. Not the laughter of the guards. Not that black, cruel smirk of the doctor... not _oh, no, there's no Al. There's no Hawkeye. You're crazy, you're crazy you're crazy..._

Because this Maes had always been trying to get him to remember, not to forget.

"Roy?" Maes prodded again, his hands still shaking.

He looked honestly, truly happy for him.

"...I..." he started weakly, still frozen and trapped and terrified and unsure of what to say.

Then, he realized.

"...You're wearing blue."

Maes and the lieutenant both hesitated. The desperately hopeful smile slipped a little, draining into unsure confusion. "...Yeah," Maes hedged after a moment, still watching him again; he tugged a little at his sleeve. His vibrantly, wondrously, _beautiful_ blue sleeve. The man must've caught him staring, because a moment later he hesitantly raised his arm just within Roy's reach, and, like a baby bird stumbling out of its nest for the first time, his fingers went towards it.

It was warm and scratchy and worn. Blue. Wool. Blue. Rough. _Blue._ Blue, blue, _blue._ It was so _real_ under his fingertips, so real his heart stopped, then started to pound his chest, desperately egging his fingers on to search. "It's our uniform," he heard Maes whisper, but in that moment all that existed was that beautiful sleeve.

It was blue, and it was _real._

"...You're wearing blue," was all he could choke out, and Roy let his head fall back, eyes squeezing shut.

He couldn't let go of the sleeve.

It was very still and very quiet in the room, Maes and the lieutenant surely waiting for him to go on. But he couldn't. Maes and the lieutenant. His friends. His family. His home. His _Al._

"...You don't, by any chance, know a Riza Hawkeye, do you?" he gasped finally, barely squeezing the question out through a painfully tight throat. His heart swelled almost to bursting, and for the first time in days, he started to smile.

Maes and the lieutenant's gasps were proof enough.

"I'll go get the doctor!" the lieutenant cried, dashing out of the room in an instant, but Maes, he stayed. Maes. _I went to his home. I knew, I knew._ Maes stayed, and his _blueblueblue_ sleeve stayed right there, right in his hand, and for a moment, Roy wanted to never let go.

"Roy?" the man urged frantically, leaning even closer, pale and strained. "What is it? Do you remember something? Roy?"

He couldn't speak. His throat was closed with welling emotion, his chest too tight from heartbreak and agonized, breathless, tremendous _relief._ He just shut his eyes again, touching the blue sleeve, and found himself smiling until his cheeks split.

Very tentatively, almost as if asking for permission, he felt Maes' hand come to rest over his own. For a moment, it hurt so much he couldn't breathe. It was exquisite in its agony and he gasped with the force of it. Something warm and wet rolled down the side of his face and he didn't even care that he couldn't wipe it away. It was entirely too much. He wanted to scream, he wanted to cry, he wanted to pass out, he wanted to dance, he wanted...

 _I did it._

 _We're home._

He still couldn't speak.

He could, however, turn his hand over and squeeze back.

 _I did it, Fullmetal._

* * *

Roy didn't really remember how the day went on after that.

Others came in and out quickly; another nurse, he thought one was a doctor, always asking him questions but the words just washed over his head. It was medical staff that he felt himself all but hardwired not to listen to, and with the drugs weighing down his head and clouding his judgment anyway; he couldn't listen to them.

All he stayed aware of was Maes.

They gave him more drugs, at some point; he wasn't sure what they were, antibiotics, probably- Maes had told him they were safe, though, and Roy was just too tired and worn out to resist. They'd exhausted him in a way he hadn't felt since when they'd first started sedating him, weighing his head back down to the hospital bed and making his limbs feel with lead- and he hated feeling so zoned out. Hated being unable to think clearly, to move with purpose, to really do anything at all besides just lay there and blink...

But, just this once, he could bear it.

He was safe here. And so was Ed.

Maes stayed with him. Roy was relatively sure the man had tried talking to him at first, but given up rather quickly when he'd not managed to get a response- satisfactory or otherwise. He _had_ wasted no time in taking the restraints off even while against protests from the medical staff; had, in fact, moved so fast and rough it felt like his limbs were being ripped off, and not even trying to stop him as he stretched and curled up loosely in the sheets and found himself smiling so much it hurt-

But he'd stayed. He'd _stayed._

And he'd left his arm on the bed... just within reach of Roy's.

His sleeve was blue. Roy couldn't let go of it.

His fingertips had gone numb at some point, but he continued to rub the wool cloth between his thumb and forefinger, marveling at it. The soft, warm wool, the perfect texture, the beautiful, _beautiful_ blue. He smiled at it wonderingly, heart swelling with every second it stayed in his hands and didn't drift or dissolve away.

Home.

 _Home._

There was a bit of noise in the room, and Maes shifted around, but his sleeve stayed within his grasp and that was all Roy really cared about. He rubbed the beautiful blue again, smiling lazily into the pillow.

"Roy." Maes came back, leaning down close to him. His face was blurry, Roy choosing to focus on the sleeve over him. "Roy, can you hear me?"

"...mmm..." he forced out tiredly, gripping the sleeve a little tighter. _Shh. Quiet. Don't talk... just stay._

The man sighed, but did not remove his arm from his fingers, and that was all that mattered. "Roy, it's late. I've got to go, but I'll be back in the morning, okay? Remember what I told you? We're moving you and Ed tonight out of here, to somewhere safe- with any luck you'll both sleep through it and things will be better tomorrow, okay? And- and for now, Hawkeye'll stay outside the door, so if you need anything she can get it for you. Al'll be on the phone with Ed as well, so you'll both be taken care of. That okay, Roy?"

He sighed, letting his eyes drift shut for a heartbeat. "...Mmm," he mumbled again, curling the cuff of the sleeve around his thumb. His heart swelled cheerfully again.

He thought it was a fond sigh, that he heard over his head. Then: "Good night, Roy. I'll see you tomorrow."

And then, the arm started to pull away.

Roy jerked, gripping it spasmodically. "No," he ground out, curling closer to it. He tugged violently, numb fingers shaking into a fist around it. _"No."_ He pulled it closer to him, glaring dangerously to dissuade anyone from taking it away from him.

"Roy..." the man sighed sadly, trying to pull away again. "Just try to get some sleep, okay? It'll be morning before you know it. You'll be fine-"

"No. _Mine."_ He gripped it even tighter. _"Mine,"_ he snapped, pulse quickening in nerves. It was his, wasn't it? Just like Al was Ed's... his _home._ It couldn't just leave. It was his! He turned his head a little, dragging it off the pillow to glare at the man trying to take it away. " _Mine!_ "

Maes' blurry form hesitated, the look in his eyes one of the saddest Roy had ever seen. The look made him dislodge his fingers a little, heart falling. It… it wasn't his? It- it wasn't…

Not… _his_ blue. It wasn't. It wasn't his, and... it was going to be taken away... it'd hurt less, somehow, he felt, if he let the man go, rather than try to hang on and have it ripped from his grasp, and he felt his hold begin to loosen all but against his will. "...Mine?" he whispered, miserable. His fingers still clutched a little onto the sleeve, unable to help himself.

Maes watched him for a moment longer, sad and indecisive again, appearing almost stricken. After a moment, he said, "Hold on a second," and turned away; Roy's fuzzed mind lost interest almost immediately, and he turned back towards the beautifully blue sleeve, drinking in what he could of it before it was taken away from him.

It could've been a second, could've been an hour. He was too tired to tell. But, when he'd almost forgotten about that sad, sad look, and the despairing grief that even if he'd found safety, it wasn't his home, _his_ blue, he found himself enveloped in an armful of azure wool.

Roy rolled back a little, his eyes widening. He almost choked to see it all in his arms; so much of it, so much! And all _his!_ It wasn't just a sleeve anymore, it was the whole jacket, and there was so much he didn't even know what to do with it all. There was so much- and it was all... his? Gasping, smile swallowing his whole face, he rolled up to dare to look at Maes. Maes, who now stood there sans jacket, wearing only a thin black T-shirt in its place. "M... mine?" he croaked, barely daring to hope.

Maes smirked. "For now, I guess it is." He patted his shoulder warmly, and made zero attempt to take the jacket away from him. "That's better, then?"

"...Mmm," was all he could say. This time, not for lack of strength, but now just the lump in his throat refused to let him say anything else. Shutting his eyes, he wrapped his arms around the still warm jacket and held it tightly against him, nuzzling his face into the collar. His. It was all blue and- and it was all _his._

He heard Maes laugh, say something, but it was all lost to a blur of happiness. Sighing contentedly, Roy pressed it warmly against him, clutching the fabric into fists and feeling his heart swell. It was blue, and it was his. Safe. _Safe._ Home.

"Thank you," he breathed, burying his face against it again. "Thank you, Maes."


	20. Chapter 20

Thank you all so much for reviewing! 200 review milestone, everyone- THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH! Love you guys! :D

This chapter's pretty light, honestly- which is a long time in coming in this fic, so you guys can just relax for this one. More angst and recovery will really start soon!

* * *

When Roy woke up, the first thing he realized was that he wasn't in a hospital anymore.

The second thing he realized was that the blue jacket was still in his arms, and for several moments, that was all he was mentally capable of caring about.

Roy buried his face in the, admittedly itchy, wool, inhaling deeply. It took him several long moments to remember that he had the freedom to move, that there _weren't_ restraints on him, and that reality was so bewildering he found himself unsure of what to do except just to hold the jacket tighter.

It had been too long since he'd had that freedom for him to even know what to do with it anymore.

Roy lay there for several seconds, only realizing when the stillness just dragged on that he had to be alone. After all, he clearly wasn't asleep anymore, yet no one had said anything to him or made any noise. He frowned a little, still gripping the jacket, reluctant to break this strange facade of calmness that felt so foreign to him, then at last just forced himself to wake up and pry open his eyes.

He definitely was not in a hospital anymore.

This was… a bedroom. A normal bedroom, in a normal house, with a bed, and a desk, and a bookshelf right in the corner of his eye. No more white walls with peeling paint chips. It was dark brown wood and neat and smelled- well- _not_ clean. Not poisoned with antiseptics. _Not_ like a hospital. And the bed he was in didn't feel like a hospital's, either; it was actually soft and, and _warm,_ too, legitimately comfortable, and he would've just closed his eyes and sunk right back into it if he hadn't been so surprised.

He remembered Maes telling him this, yesterday. Telling him that they were going to take him and Ed out of the hospital and move them somewhere safe. But he'd never actually considered… never _believed…_

Roy breathed in deeply again, hugging the blue jacket back to his chest. Maes was his friend. He could trust Maes. He had to believe that, right? Maes, so far, had done nothing to make Roy distrust him, so…

So, if he trusted Maes…

That meant Ed was here.

Roy's bandaged hands clenched in the _(blue)_ fabric again, and without any further hesitation, he opened his eyes wide and sat up fully.

And Ed was right there.

There he finally was.

Alive, and if not well, at least in one piece.

Relief expanded so fast and hard inside of him he felt as if he might burst.

There Ed was, lying across from him and curled up loosely on his side, and he wasn't restrained either. No, he was just as free as Roy was, tucked underneath a thick blanket and breathing deeply enough that he could see it from across the room. Alive and as healthy as Roy could've expected and, and just-

Ed was _right there_. He was actually… safe.

Relief expanded in Roy's chest again, so explosively he nearly laughed aloud, and a smile spread across his face that was too strong for him to even try to hide.

 _I knew I could trust Maes._

 _I knew it._

 _I_ knew _it._

Roy shifted carefully, only tangentially aware of his own injuries as he maneuvered himself upright. A voice in the back of his mind cautioned him, reminding him that Ed had to be exhausted and just leaving him to sleep for now would be best, but Roy had just spent too long worried about him and his hesitation was flat out overrode by his relief to see him alive and safe. "Fullmetal," he called gently, lurching slowly to his feet, barely even feeling the pain of it. There was a desk chair nearby and he grabbed for it gratefully, pulling it away from the wall to drop heavily down into it. Maes' jacket stayed slung over his broken arm, resting heavily against the cast like a warm, reassuring weight, and he found himself pressing it even closer to his chest as he moved next to Ed, calling his name again.

That was all it took, to get him to wake up.

Ed squinted sleepily, blinking at first, but was jolting awake just as quickly as Roy had when he found himself somewhere new. "What-" he spluttered instantly, almost flailing, jerking around with wide, shocked eyes, "w-where-"

"It's okay," Roy promised, though Ed was already not even listening to him, just staring wildly around the room in disbelief and something close to panic. "It's okay," he said again, hand on his arm, still battling back an almost disbelieving smile until Ed finally turned back to look at him, breathing hard and shaking.

"B- _bastard?"_ he stammered, gaping.

Roy nodded all but gleefully back.

Ed blinked several times again, just staring at him like he wasn't sure what to believe as real. He sat slowly back as he shook his head, not in denial but in confusion, then abruptly swiveled back around to face him, raising his hand. "Wait, did you get my message?! Roy, listen, Roy, Al said they're okay- they let me _talk to him,_ he was on the phone and he promised they were okay, I told them to tell you- it's Al, Roy, and he said it was okay, they're safe-"

"I know, I know. They told me, Fullmetal; it got through." He hesitated, still smiling, unsure of how to reassure him, then just raised the heavy, blue jacket up as proof. "It got through."

Ed's eyes widened again, landing first on the jacket then jerking back to him, gaze confused and almost glazed with fatigue or pain or uncertainty. "What-" he mumbled blankly, looking as if this was all moving too fast for him to even comprehend; he reached a hand out unsurely, pulling at the fabric, then blinked back up at him. "It's-…"

"Let's both of us just calm down," Roy laughed, lowering the jacket and reaching out to lower Ed's hand as well. "I think things are a lot better now than we might've been willing to think." Unable to really help himself, Roy got up again, this time awkwardly maneuvering himself so he could sit by Ed's side, both to be closer to him and to better be able to protect him if something happened.

Ed nodded slowly, jerkily again, his eyes still a bit too wide to really reassure him but at least he was remaining somewhat calm. He didn't flinch away when Roy joined him, either, giving him the opportunity to subtly lean back, narrowing his eyes to try and get a better look at the wounds on his back.

Bandaged, yes, but… they looked okay, he surmised. No blood leaking through, and they looked recently changed as well. It seemed Maes and the others had been taking care of Ed as well as they could. He couldn't have expected Ed to have been perfectly healed in just three days, after all; was just glad he was doing as well as he was…

"What… what happened to you?"

Roy blinked, gaze pulled away from Ed's back to look down at the kid on the heels of the slow, almost horrified words. Ed was staring at the bandages around his hand- and some of that empty fear that had painted his face before shifting now into a shadow of rage.

"Did… _they_ do that to you?" he went on again, voice a hoarse sort of stammer as he now stared at the cast, his eyes widening like he'd just been struck across the face with it. "Is that- that wasn't there last time I- did _they_ hurt you?! I'll- I swear to god, I'll- _"_

It took Roy a few moments to understand the horror in his voice, the way his relief had suddenly just morphed into something awful, but the moment he did he moved forward again, reaching his hand out and shaking his head. "No- no, Fullmetal, it's okay. Calm down, all right? Just calm down- they didn't hurt me. They're safe, remember? You can trust Al," he promised, touching his arm gently with his good hand… even when seeing that distrustful, scared, almost _wild_ look in his eyes made his heart lurch painfully all over again.

He hadn't wanted to see that look on Ed's face ever again.

"It's okay," he promised again. "It was hurt before- the last time we saw each other. Maes… these people just actually treated it. We can trust them."

 _You can trust Al, and I can trust Maes._

Ed lowered his eyes for a moment, biting his lip and clearly absolutely torn no matter whatever had happened the day before to make him trust these people. Roy held his breath for just a moment before moving a little bit closer, carefully situating the heavy jacket over both their shoulders and drawing his good arm gently around Ed's back. The jacket wasn't really big enough to fit them both, so he let Ed have the majority while he tightly clutched at the hem and sleeve.

"You'll be okay, Fullmetal," he said quietly, letting Ed just get his bearings the same way he had. "I promise."

Ed was silent for several moments longer, not looking up but at least leaning a little more into him, clutching carefully at the jacket the same way Roy was. Finally, with a slightly unsteady, shuddering breath, he raised his head again to frown around the room, narrowing his eyes at the unrecognizable space and mouth slipping into a grimace. "Where _are_ we?" he queried, poking at the soft bed.

Roy shrugged uncomfortably. "I don't know." He glanced back around the room himself, hoping for more clues, _something,_ but… "It looks a little like a child's bedroom. Maybe it's yours."

Ed tensed immediately, a little growl emerging from his throat just as an elbow met his already sore side, just the way Roy had been hoping for. "I'm not a _kid,"_ he snapped up at him, the tension and fear from before lessened if not entirely gone, and Roy could barely hide his own small grin as he shifted around, going for the bookcase that was just within reach and squirming the nearest book out.

"See, I told you!" he proclaimed, handing it over. "This is a kid's textbook, for school- unless _History of Amestris_ is just some light reading people do for fun around here. And I bet," he said, flipping it open, "it belongs to y- …oh."

The book did indeed seem to be the property of a child.

However, _Edward Elric_ was not the name scrawled inside the front cover.

After several surprised, wordless seconds, he felt rather than actually saw Ed's highly amused gaze land back on him, and when he spoke, he could just hear the smirk on his voice alone.

He'd meant to help Ed relax.

He hadn't meant for _this._

"Which one of us is the kid now, bastard?" he drawled smugly. Roy was glad he was so transfixed on the cover he couldn't glance over to see the look on his face.

Because, in small, cramped, untidy letters, a backwards R included, was _property of Roy Mustang._

"…This is clearly quite ancient," he muttered at last, coughing. He suddenly felt incredibly hot. "Perhaps it belonged to me once, but only many… _many_ years ago, and-"

"Nah, I don't think so, bastard." Ed tugged the book firmly back into his lap and hugged it close like a dog would a favorite treat, snickering under his breath again. "This explains everything, if you think about it! I'm really the adult here, and you're just the little kid!"

"Fullmetal, now, _really-"_

"I'm smarter than you, and older than you, and taller than you, and you ought to listen to your _elders,_ bastard," he laughed, even as he pulled his half of the jacket tighter around himself and leaned more against Ed's side. "Hey- maybe that's it! Maybe _that's_ how we know each other! Maybe I'm your _dad."_

"Of- of all the _ludicrous things-"_ he sputtered, face flaming even hotter. What had Maes said he had? Pneumonia? Yes, that was it, just the fever, _obviously-_ "Fullmetal, it's quite apparent-"

"Oh? Are you back talking me now? Your _father?"_

"You look like you're _twelve!_ If anything you're _my_ son, not-"

"That's it, go to your room," Ed announced, beaming and snickering even while Roy's face continued to stubbornly flame embarrassment. "You clearly need to learn your lesson about being disrespectful to your elders. _Son."_

Roy sat back with a heavy groan, closing his eyes almost painfully and not even caring at the bolt of pain that shot through his spine the moment the burns hit the wall. "Fine, fine," he grunted sourly, refusing to look even as Ed continued to lose it next to him. "Considering we already seem to be in my room anyway, I'll just stay right here," _you unrepentant brat…_ He coughed again, this time feeling the pain of it in his chest, and glanced awkwardly around the room again while Ed finally calmed down, sobered by the realization that at least now, they knew where they were.

"I guess this is my house, then," he murmured. "My parents' house? Something."

"…yeah," Ed mumbled back. He paused for a moment, warm under Roy's arm, squinting as he looked around the small space. "We… we should look around. Shouldn't we? Make sure it's really safe here…"

Roy nodded in agreement. As much as he wanted to trust Maes- well, Maes wasn't here. As far as he could tell, _nobody_ was. But if Maes wasn't here that meant Roy had to protect himself and Ed, and he wasn't really that keen on just sitting around waiting to see whatever this place had in store for them.

"I agree." Clearing his throat, he moved back to stand, shrugging the jacket fully around himself now and waiting for Ed to follow. "Where's Al? Do you know?"

Ed shook his head while still looking away, carefully and awkwardly beginning to shift around but clearly in some amount of pain already. "He was only on the phone. He said he was on his way here but it'd take another day… he stayed on the phone with me all night, actually. Last thing I remember was just- just listening to him talk." He hesitated again, a small, weak thing of a smile slipping across his face, one that was heartwarming in its sincerity, that stubborn wall of his finally melting just enough for Roy to see the vulnerability hiding behind it. "He said he was my brother, bastard."

In that moment, he looked so honestly happy that Roy's heart clenched.

"…I'm glad," he said quietly back, swallowing tightly. Brother. Ed had a brother.

 _Good for you, Fullmetal. Good for you._

Ed nodded again, not looking at him but smile so big it was blinding, and just by that look on his face, Roy knew that they had _both_ found everything that they'd been looking for.

"Come on," he said again after several moments, gripping Ed's hand a little tighter with his own bandaged one. "Let's get going."

Ed started to move again, curling up a little, but then abruptly gasped and stiffened, smile twisting into a pained cry. He stuttered out another gasp again, hand jerking away from Roy's even as Roy moved back forward in alarm, reaching for him as he saw the blood drain from his face and the pain in his eyes no matter how hard the kid was trying to hide it. "I-" the kid gasped, "I-"

"It's okay," Roy told him, instantly switching course. He was afraid to touch him just yet, not wanting to hurt him any worse but couldn't stop himself from attempting the motion half a dozen times, wanting to get him lying down again, relaxed, _anything_ to feel better. "Hey, it's okay, you don't have to-"

"No, I- y-you can't alone- I can do it, I promise-"

But it was obvious that he couldn't.

He was in pain, just like Roy was, but he was in _worse_ pain; all of Roy's own injuries were barely an afterthought compared to the burns on his back, and Ed's were so much _worse_ than his had been. Just by the look on his face alone it was too much for him, and Roy wasn't going to tell him to just grit his teeth and bear it- not _again,_ not now that they were safe, not now that Roy could finally truly protect him. "It's okay, we don't have to," he said over Ed's gasps, still afraid to touch him but grabbing the blanket instead, pulling it closer to him to try and encourage him to relax. "We're safe here. We don't have to go anywhere, not if you can't do it."

"N-no- no, we h- _have_ to, I-" he moaned, voice tight with pain, "I have to-"

" _No,"_ he ordered sternly, sitting back down on the bed beside him. "Al said these people were safe. We're going to have to trust that, Fullmetal- if you're too hurt then that's fine; I'm not going anywhere. I'm not leaving you alone here." As badly as he wanted to explore this place, he'd _never_ stand up and leave a hurt Ed alone to do so. At least this way, if danger came, it'd find them together. Roy would be able to stop it.

"No, b-bastard, _wait-"_

"I said I'm not going anywhere, Fullmetal; deal with-"

"You're awake."

Roy gasped so hard he nearly choked, and before he could process any more than the shock of it, Ed was behind him and his one good arm was held out to protect him. In the same moment he heard Ed gasp, too, the injured boy jerking as away from the voices as he could get, a tiny, almost brokenly scared noise coming from his throat, and Roy steeled himself to face their newest threat.

Two women stood in the doorway.

One was younger, around his age, maybe. Standing there pale-faced and uncertain, wearing too much makeup with her light hair fancily stylized and what looked like a fancy dress hidden under an old, long jacket, watching him and Ed with uncertain eyes and holding a tray before her, two steaming bowls waiting. One was older, at least twice his age and a head taller, again looking as if she was dressed for a party but smirking down at them both, watching them with a knowing sort of look that made part of Roy distinctly uncomfortable.

The last time he'd met an unfamiliar woman…

That Gracia…

A _nurse…_

"I'd always heard you two bickered like cats and dogs, but I'd never seen it for myself before now. I have to admit, I'm not surprised."

Roy tensed again, arm held out between her and Ed still not wavering in the slightest. He glanced between the two of them suspiciously, apprehension gathering in his throat, and curled his fingers just a bit tighter around the jacket. "Where's Maes?"

"On his way here," the older woman said, giving Roy's previously occupied, now empty bed a glance before stepping further into the room. "He said we might want to wait for him, but I figured you two would be hungry enough for us to risk your hostility." She nodded to her friend, who uncertainly proceeded into the room herself to set the bowls down on Roy's old bed, and leaving Roy even more uncomfortable than before.

The way they were both acting… the way they were looking at him…

"I don't know you," he said abruptly.

Both women paused.

Roy swallowed hard, shifting a little closer back to Ed and unsure why he was suddenly so adamant on pronouncing it, but the words were already coming out and he couldn't stop them. "I don't know if Maes told you, but I… don't remember much. I'm sorry if- if we know each other, but… I don't remember you. I don't… know who you are."

They both stopped again, sharing a glance that he couldn't quite figure out.

Then, the older woman once again unleashed a broad smirk down on him, and the younger one actually laughed.

"Well, you didn't know me when we first met, either, and things worked out just fine. So I imagine things will work out fine now, too. I'm Christmas, and this one here," she gestured at the girl, who had already raised a hand in greeting, "is Vanessa. Nice to meet you again, Roy-boy."

Roy, once again, found himself incapable of little more than a stunned blink.

…Roy-boy?

"U- um," he stammered blankly, working his jaw.

From behind him, Ed leaned out just a little more, staring up at the two and clearly just as shocked as he was. "…Christmas?" he asked, voice small but not quite as fearful, and the hand clenched in the back of Roy's shirt loosened.

"Yes. Chris Mustang, if you must know, but Christmas for short, and no one's called me by my full name in twenty years, so if you do I won't answer to it."

Roy stiffened, disbelief warming his face in contrast to the embarrassment of before. "You're-" He stared this Chris up and down, then Vanessa, then Chirs again, his heart pounding. "…are you my _mother?"_

He didn't remember her.

He looked at her hard, staring at every last detail, raking his eyes up and down-

And he just didn't know her.

"Mother?" Chris laughed loudly, smile broadening, and Roy couldn't help but flinch back no matter how much he didn't want to. "I suppose you could say that. Again, though, just call me Christmas."

Vanessa, next to her, frowned, proceeding forwards herself to thrust one bowl at Roy, then the other, a little more gently, at Ed. "That's not helpful right now, Madame. Roy, you're adopted. So am I. No blood relation between anybody in this room."

Roy blinked uncomfortably, the sudden wash of new information almost overwhelming. He shifted, trying to process it all, then shook himself to move out of Ed's way, moving his arm back around his side just as the kid looked up at Christmas and Vanessa again.

"Not… not even from me?"

Both of their expressions softened, and Roy found himself pulling the kid just a little bit closer to his side at the vulnerability in his voice.

Chris, this time, was the one to answer, giving him a weaker version of the broad smile she'd given Roy. "Not quite, I'm afraid. We've actually never met before, Ed- although I have heard a lot about you from this one," she gestured at Roy, and Vanessa abruptly looked away to try and hide a laugh. "You don't quite measure up to the terrifying picture my boy was painting, but then again, Roy always was an overdramatic child." She moved forward as well to sit on the other bed and somehow Roy found himself helpless to do anything but start to relax, the tight hold around Ed's shoulders loosening and the tenseness in his chest easing at the sheer, impossible _familiarity_ of it all… "He ran into his sister's arms sobbing with a papercut."

…even as he was apparently sassed and mocked into oblivion.

"O-oh," he stammered, face heating up yet _again._ Being here was not good for his health, he thought.

"By the way," she continued on, gazing at them with a critical eye, "you two should both stop huddling under the blankets like that. Roy, at least take off your jacket. You're both still sick and as tempting as it may be, burying yourself under blankets won't get rid of a fever. You're in quite possibly the safest building in the whole city right now, but there's really not much I can do for you."

Roy clenched his fist back tighter in the jacket reflexively, the smallest beginnings of panic stirring inside of him. He shrunk back just as Ed shook his head, clinging closer both to Roy and the blankets no matter the odd stares it got them both.

"No," they both said together, though Ed was the only one to go on, "I'm _freezing."_

Chris sighed, frowning at them again. "If that's so, then at _least_ stop cuddling up to each other like a pair of dogs. That's not helping anything at all."

Roy tensed again and felt Ed tense, too, the very prospect of being separated just the antithesis to everything that he wanted in this moment. He could tell Ed felt exactly the same way when he turned to look down at him, the reluctance and almost alarm plain his eyes- but this time Roy looked past it, scrutinizing his face for what his- apparently adoptive mother- was talking about. And he _saw_ them. Ed wasn't just tired but was plainly unwell, too, skin too warm, face flushed and even in the low light, very faintly shiny with sweat… maybe his inability to get out of bed earlier wasn't just because he was in too much pain, but was too sick, as well…

If this Madame Christmas was right, Roy wasn't really doing any Ed any good sitting this close to him.

He clenched his jaw reluctantly, staring down at Ed's wide, nervous eyes and trying to find the best way to do this.

"…Fine," he said at last, forcing himself to move back even when that made the worry on Ed's face shoot into alarm. "Just for now," he half pleaded, silently begging Ed to understand as he carefully removed the physical contact between them, leaving only a bandaged hand on his arm and just as silently daring the madame from saying anything about it. _I'm not going anywhere this time, Fullmetal._

Behind them, the madame huffed again. "You're just as stubborn as always. Well, if you're going to be stubborn, can you both at least eat? You both look as if you need it, and I'm not really interested in trying to spoonfeed that one," she gestured at Roy a second time, _"again."_

Roy scowled and sputtered in the same moment, breaking gaze with her with the excuse of looking at the bowl in his lap. He wished Maes were back. The soup looked good, at least, warm in his hand and with a strange smell he couldn't quite identify but that made his stomach growl, all the same. It was only now that he actually thought about it that he realized he hadn't eaten in _weeks._ Not since Justin had found the sedatives they'd been hiding and every last bit of freedom they'd had had been taken away, and based off the way he'd found Ed, he suspected Fullmetal was in the exact same situation as he was. Obviously they must've been given nutrients in the constant injections until now, but- but-

God _damn_ that didn't compare to actually eating.

He went for it, tentatively at first, half of him wanting to devour the whole bowl in one go but the other half too afraid of upsetting his already queasy stomach, but when the second tiny spoonful settled easily his third was the biggest bite that he could. He turned to share a warm glance with Ed, only to find him even more tentative about it than he was, biting his lip and spoon still clutched uncertainly; Roy squeezed his arm confidently, trying to reassure him. "It's good, trust me. Maybe not the Xingese food I promised you, but- it's something, right?"

Christmas laughed again, although this time Roy was too busy devouring his next bite to let himself be distracted. "It actually is Xingese. Well- chicken noodle, if you must know, but with Xingese spices to make it worth it. Maybe it's not orthodox, but I've been feeding that to Roy for over two decades; I think it's safe enough for you to eat, Ed."

The words again made him curious, provoking another dozen or two questions that hovered just behind his tongue, but at the moment he was just too busy filling his stomach and making sure Ed did the same to care. It took another few moments for Ed to cautiously trust this stranger enough to take the first bite- but Ed, like Roy, did not need any more encouragement than that to tuck in.

Ed, somewhat miraculously, considering he only had one hand, was by far the sickest among them, and was _half Roy's size,_ somehow managed to spoon up so much he quickly surpassed Roy and then just kept on going. Laughing quietly, Roy returned to his own bowl, not quite caring enough to make a spectacle of himself as he continued eating, but this time, with his questions back on his mind.

"Can we slow down for a moment?" he asked, carefully leaning his injured back a little more against the headboard. "We really don't know what's going on here- _neither_ of us do. No one's really answered our questions in… well, _months._ We're a bit lost."

Christmas sighed deeply, sharing a tense look with his sister. "Hughes asked that we wait until he gets here with the others to answer those sorts of questions, and I'm inclined to agree with him on this. This is a complicated enough situation as it is; no need to confuse things by having the two of us giving potentially conflicting answers."

"But no one's telling us _anything!"_ Ed exclaimed suddenly, at last seeming comfortable enough in what was going on to speak out. He shifted forward, Roy's hand still on his arm but looking as if he wanted to start waving his hand around any second now. "We're just asking for some answers! Why do we have to wait for that?! You know everything about us- we barely even know _ourselves!_ You- you said that I knew the bastard, didn't you? At least tell us that much!"

Christmas frowned again. "Tell you what?"

"How we _know each other!"_

Then, just like that, their faces fell.

It was very quick, at least, and even more quickly hidden. He wouldn't have even seen it if he hadn't been watching them so closely. But it happened, both of them- one moment both Christmas and Vanessa just watching them with veiled amusement in their eyes, and then the next, that amusement was gone, and replaced by a shared, deep sadness.

Then it was gone all together, hidden by a hard mask as Christmas looked back at them, all traces of her earlier smile gone. "You really don't remember, then."

"…remember what?"

"Anything," Vanessa said, her voice small.

Roy stopped, the gravity of that word alone sticking like a heavy weight in his gut. He swallowed uncomfortably, mouth suddenly dry, and found himself lowering the spoon down with a heavy hand, unsure of what to say.

This, supposedly, was his adoptive mother. He was supposed to have known her for almost his entire life. Ed, too, apparently, he'd known long before ending up in that hospital.

And he didn't remember _anything_ about it.

A look in Ed's direction, a single quick glance, was all he needed to confirm that Ed felt the same way.

Neither one of them did.

"…You're twenty-nine years old," Christmas said finally, nodding at him and again without a trace of a smile. "Ed, you're fifteen. Both of you are alchemists working for the military; the reason you know each other is because Roy here has been Ed's superior for around three years, now. Ed, from what I understand your history is a little… complicated, so I don't think I'm the right person to be answering any questions for you. As for you, Roy… some questions are left better unanswered."

Roy stiffened again, hands clenching again in his lap. And just what the hell did _that_ mean?

"Trust me, kid," Christmas implored, her heavy gaze meeting his again. "Let us just look into what's causing this for now. Once you've got your memories back, none of these questions will matter anyway- so just trust me when I say you don't want me to try and explain it now."

Which, of course, did absolutely _nothing_ to squash his rising, almost poisonous curiosity. In fact, Roy was pretty damn sure that made it quite a bit worse.

What was so bad or complicated she just wouldn't say? What was in his past, what had he _done,_ that she wouldn't tell him?

The suppressed, murky memories of fire came to him again, the screams of the country he'd destroyed, Ed's blood-spattered face from when he had to have savagely chopped his limbs off, the screams of Riza Hawkeye as he burned her alive.

His stomach turned again, and suddenly, Roy found himself regretting that soup.

He remembered more than Christmas thought he did, and just off those few fragments- she was right.

It was probably better that he didn't know.

But he would. Some day, he would. If she wouldn't tell him, he'd find somebody else. Somebody, somewhere, someday, would tell him what he'd done.

He couldn't live without knowing.

But right now, with Ed practically sitting in his lap, unwell and in pain, was not the time.

"…Okay," he murmured, voice as falsely sincere as he could make it. "Okay. I'll-"

There were footsteps in the hallway.

Another person. _Again._

Roy clenched Ed's arm tighter again, just on reflex, and knew Ed had heard the exact same thing that he had when he started to lean closer into Roy's side. They both pulled away from the door, Roy's heart hammering as his throat abruptly tightened, something close to panic rising from his stomach and chilling him with fear.

 _Step… step… step… he's getting closer… he's almost here… he's-_

"Good morning!"

Roy jumped, heart skipping another beat, and this time instead of panic, it was a broad smile that he was unable to stop.

"Maes," he said, and beamed.

Then, jolting, he glanced back at Ed, squeezing his arm when he saw the kid was no less relaxed than before. "It's okay," he cautioned, still beaming and simply unable to stop. "Maes is safe. He's okay." He squeezed his arm again even as his gaze was dragged back towards the door where Maes was waiting, staring up at him in something close to wonderment. _You came back,_ he wanted to say, disbelieving and almost shocked, _you actually came back,_ but instead all that came out was, "G-good morning."

Maes' own smile broadened, partly in relief, Roy thought, relief that he still remembered him. Roy just hugged his jacket a little tighter, curling his sore fingers around the blue as he looked him over. He looked much the same as last night, but now another dark blue jacket was slung over his arms rather than his shoulders- actually, if Roy thought about it, he looked even better now, more well-rested, and Roy could only figure that was due to him.

He smiled again, some uncertain, warm affection spreading in his chest, and hugged the jacket just a little closer.

"Well," Maes announced, stepping a little further into the room. "You both look like you've slept well."

Roy nodded twice, swallowing another bold grin. He had. Best sleep he'd had in months, actually- probably the first time he'd slept without nightmares or something close to them since waking up in that hospital.

"Good. I'm glad." Maes at last fully moved inside, and that blond lieutenant from the day before, Havoc, followed him too, wearing that same blue jacket that meant Roy knew he could trust him, and then Maes was before him, and holding out the blue jacket slung over his arm. "Got something for you, Roy."

Roy blinked dumbly.

"A… another jacket?" he finally asked, reaching out hesitantly. With the cast on his arm, it was hard, but he managed to fumble to grasp the blue wool. Another jacket… for Ed, maybe?

But Maes shook his head, still grinning a little. "No- _your_ jacket, Roy."

And now, he was even more confused. "But this is mine," he said bringing his arm back around his own. Wasn't it? Maes had given it to him, just last night. He'd let him have it… it _was_ his, wasn't it…?

"No, Roy, remember?" Maes sighed. "I loaned that one to you. This one is _actually_ yours. I went through some of your things last night and dug it out." He shook it out, trying to hand it over again, and Roy was left to just squint his eyes at it and stare.

It looked… similar, at least. Both his jacket and the one Maes was holding had a complicated array of stars and stripes, golden braids and medals; he wasn't sure if they were exactly the same, he wasn't even sure what was on Maes' and he'd been holding it all night- but they looked the same. The same heavy blue wool. The same size. The same clinking brass buttons, stiff collar, long sleeves… "They look the same," he observed steadily, burying his fingers in the warm cloth, the material he'd been hugging close for hours, now, the first comfort he'd had in weeks.

Maes blinked in surprise, glancing down at the two jackets himself with a grudging frown. "Well… well, maybe, but you-"

"If they're the same," he said firmly, "I want this one, then."

"What? Wait- no, you can't, Roy, they're not the same-"

"They look the same."

"But they're not! Roy-" Maes stopped, frowning again in amused frustration. "Roy, look-"

"If they look the same, why can't you wear that one, and I just keep this one?" he countered, reasonably, he thought. After all, they looked identical to him. There was no difference in which one Maes wore- and Roy wanted to keep _this_ one. The one Maes had given to him.

The first proof that he was home.

Maes stared at him again, his jaw clenched and head tilted to the side. Havoc, behind him, looked incredibly amused, almost like he was about to start laughing. " _Because,_ you- I… damn it, Roy…"

Well, that sounded a hell of a lot like defeat to him, and he was going to take that. Grinning, Roy clutched the jacket even closer to his chest, sandwiching it behind the cast again even as Maes smacked a hand to his face and shook his head. "So… I can keep this one, then?" he pressed, pressing it to his heart. It was his. _His_ blue.

Maes, for several seconds, just stared at him inscrutably, saying nothing, doing nothing. Just long enough that Roy's own hopes started to falter, fist around the wool weakening, and his heart falling.

Then, with a loud, long-suffering sigh, obviously overdramatic sigh, he gave in.

"Fine," he groaned, and Roy beamed.

" _But,"_ he then stressed, still mock glaring at him, "if I get arrested for impersonating a superior officer, you'd better show up at the court martial in my defense, Roy. You don't get to steal my personal property _and_ frame me for it."

Roy sat back once again, hugging the jacket with one arm and still touching Ed's arm with the other, warm relief flooding through him once again even though he didn't quite know why. Superior officers. Military. So, that was how he knew Maes, then. This jacket- it must've been their uniform.

"God," Maes sighed, looking as if he was trying to glare but couldn't quite stop himself from smiling. "I've missed you, you absolute moron," and Roy, once again, couldn't stop himself from grinning back.

Regardless of everything else that he was still so completely lost on- Maes was his home just like Al was Ed's. He was sure of it.

"All right," Maes announced after several awkward moments, clearing his throat. "First thing's first. Neither of you need to worry, now- Madame Christmas' bar is probably the safest place in the city right now. No one can touch you here. But we don't want to take any chances at all, so-" He glanced over his shoulder, then started as if surprised by what he saw. "Damn it, the lieutenant's getting the gloves from the car, I thought she was here already- Havoc, do you know where-"

Maes' question was overrun by more footsteps, these softer than before. This time Roy was ready for the newcomer, though, and he forced himself to relax and could feel Ed doing the same next to him as the next person entered the room that was already becoming a bit cramped. He couldn't see her face at first, but recognized her as another one of the military, based off her blue uniform, and another wave of relief washed through him-

"I apologize for the wait, sir."

-and his heart stopped.

Riza Hawkeye.

It was Riza Hawkeye.

He recognized her. He knew it was her. Out of everybody else he'd seen since escaping from that hospital- her face was the only one he knew. It was her exactly, that face he'd first discerned when they'd locked him in that padded room that hadn't stop haunting him since. The woman who'd taught him his array and the woman he'd burned alive with it, the woman who'd he tortured, betrayed, hurt-

 _Ria Hawkeye Riza Hawkeye Riza Hawkeye_

 _I hurt her, so badly, over and over, it's her, it's HER-_

She was the one. How was she the one? How was Riza Hawkeye one of the people he knew, how could she wear that blue that he remembered was his family if he'd _hurt her?_ What was she doing here, after what he'd done to her- how could she stand to be in the same room, how could she even look at him, how was she even _alive,_ how could she, how _could she, Riza Hawkeye Riza Hawkeye Riza-_

"Roy?"

 _Riza Hawkeye, I hurt her, I burned her, Riza Hawkeye-_

"Um, Roy? Are you all right?"

The words barely got through, some distant, lost part of him realizing he was being spoken to even while the rest of him panicked. He twitched and flinched back, still staring right up at Riza even now that every eye in the room was on him, even hers, even after what he'd _done;_ he leaned closer to Ed, trying to reassure him he was okay even though he wasn't, not at all, not in the slightest… because he'd _hurt her…_

"Roy?" someone said again, and- Maes. It was Maes. "Are you… okay? Do you- do you remember something?"

His hands tingled with the old memory of heat, and it was a goddamned war to even manage to speak.

Even Riza looked worried now.

"…A little," he finally choked out, and, tearing his gaze away from her at last, prayed to leave it at that.

There was another uncomfortable silence.

"…Well," Maes said at last, and he could hear just in his voice how disbelieving he really was. "Introductions, then. Roy, Ed- this is Jean Havoc. This is Riza Hawkeye."

Both the soldiers nodded in turn, neither looking exactly at ease. He vaguely heard Ed give some sort of uncomfortable hello by his side; Roy, for his part, was barely able to nod, the name Riza Hawkeye still echoing around his brain so loudly it was hammering the soul out of him.

"Now, as I was saying before," Maes went on, and Roy was still far too shaken to even care about the change of topic. "You're both safe here, but we don't want to take any chances at all, so- Roy, do you know if you can still use alchemy? Do you remember your array at all?"

"For your reference, sir," Riza said quietly, lifting up a suitcase by her side and opening it for him to see. She seemed almost in a hurry to lift it up so he could no longer see her, glad to have something between them- and if what he remembered had an ounce of truth, he couldn't blame her.

Then, however, his gaze was yanked onto the contents of the suitcase, and- oh.

 _Oh._

Inside the suitcase were several pairs of clean, pristine white gloves, each neatly strapped into place, obviously unused, and each with a red circle stitched into the back. It took him a moment, squinting across the small space, but then… the inscribed triangles… the salamander…

That was his array.

"Of course we can use alchemy," Ed started, "we're not idiots. I don't know about that array, but we both can."

Maes, however, did not seem very put at ease by that answer alone, instead watching Roy with heavy, veiled eyes. "Can you, Roy?"

Roy swallowed tightly. He didn't really want to admit that he couldn't use alchemy- especially not after Ed's proclamation- but, at least, in this situation, he didn't have to. "Yes," he forced out quietly, prying his eyes away from the array. "I can. I… think."

He'd killed his guards with it, after all.

 _Accidentally._

Maes frowned again, though, folding his arms. "That's not enough. We need a definite yes or you're not getting these gloves, Roy- no offense, but I really don't think we need to add any more injuries to what we're already dealing with."

"…I can. I- I already have before. I can."

The soldiers again all glanced at each other uncertainly; Roy swallowed hard, trying not to remember the dead, staring eyes of the guards he'd killed. He forced himself to let go of Ed's arm to hold his hand out for the gloves, trying to look confident, like he knew what he was doing; if it was between being helpless or having a weapon of murder in his hands- well, he'd take the second. It wasn't just himself he had to protect anymore.

Besides, he was pretty sure the weight on his conscience was so heavy he could take a few more deaths, if that was what it took to keep himself and Ed safe.

After another moment of scrutiny, Maes at last nodded to Riza, who immediately freed a single pair of gloves from the case. He tore his eyes away before they could meet hers, letting her place them in his bandaged hand; it took all his self control not to flinch when her fingers brushed his.

"Be careful with those," Maes cautioned. "Your hands are still hurt. Don't go snapping at everything just because you can now."

Roy nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Snapping. These gloves worked by snapping. Good to know. He looked down, grimacing heavily as he tried to work his gloves onto his sore, swollen, gauze-laden hands; Maes made a small noise of concern but he managed to get the first one, albeit with much work, and it was clearly lumpy, not fitting well. The other, his hand was just too hurt; he settled for just gripping it for now, planning to find something to do with it later.

He'd learn to use these. Either alone, or with Ed, but- he would.

He'd find out how. He'd defend himself.

He'd never let someone hurt him or Ed again.

"Well… what about me?" Ed asked, moving forward eagerly, looking around at the soldiers in the room. "Roy's got his gloves- do you have something for me?"

Roy perked up too, starting to smile. Hell, as willing as he was to protect Ed, he couldn't lie; he'd be relieved if Ed had something like this so he could fight back, too. And Ed was _obviously_ better at this alchemy stuff than he was; if Ed had alchemy gloves like this, he'd probably be able to use them already, no practice needed.

The looks on the soldiers' faces, though, answered the question before any of them even had to speak.

It was Riza who spoke up this time, voice a little softer than he could've ever imagined but he couldn't look at her anyway, turning to watch Ed instead. "We're rather sure that your alchemy all requires your automail, Edward… there's nothing we can give you. None of us are alchemists, so, maybe, when Alphonse arrives, he-"

"Automail?"

"Ah… yes. Your automail." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Riza gesture first to her arm, then her leg, looking down at Ed in concern. "Your other limbs, Edward. …have you not had them this whole time?"

His other limbs?

By the look on Ed's face, the kid didn't know what she was talking about, either. He shook his head slowly, vacantly, and Roy tried to picture it just as he knew Ed had to be- because he'd only ever known Ed like this, one arm, one leg, but never, _ever_ any lesser for it, but… automail?

Ed wasn't always like this?

He saw the light on Ed's face, saw his eyes brighten and his mouth start to smile, some of the heaviness that had always been vanishing like a switch had been flipped. He touched his empty shoulder, then truncated thigh almost frantically, smiling growing by the second, then jerked around to stare up at Roy, half hopeful and half amazed. "I knew I wasn't useless." First it was quiet, almost disbelieving, but then- "I knew it! I _knew it!"_

God. What? _What?_ "Useless?" he asked, shaking his head. " _Useless?_ Fullmetal, you- you absolute fool! What? You were never… Fullmetal, are you crazy? You figured out far more than I did, no matter how many limbs you had! _Useless?_ In what universe-" God, in what world could Fullmetal actually think he was _useless?_ Roy had all four of his limbs and what help had he been? "You brainless-" Shaking his head again, Roy dropped his arm around Ed's shoulders again, pulling him closer and fever be dammed.

"You brainless fool," he muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes.

It took Ed another few moments to shake off his shock, it seemed; finally, though, he nodded back, the sheer surprise clearing off his face in place of a broad, confident grin. "I did kick ass when we escaped, didn't I?" he asked, although it sounded less like a question and more a statement of fact. "More than _you,_ I'd say."

 _Brainless fool._

 _Heartless asshole, too._

"Um… right," Maes said after an uncertain pause. Roy could hear the amused smile on his voice, although amused at what, he wasn't sure, and when he glanced up he was not at all surprised to see it on his face, too. "Well, it'll be a bit before we can see about your automail fixed, but- but we will. Don't worry, Ed, we _will._ But, in the meantime… we have some work to do."

There was something serious in those words, something that set off alarm bells in his head and a cold shiver running down his spine. Roy stiffened and Ed stiffened, too, both hearing the shift in his tone and the warning behind it- and just like that, Roy knew that the lightheartedness of this meeting was over.

If it had even been lighthearted since Riza stepped through the door.

Maes sighed, pushing at his glasses and averting his eyes. "We think the memory loss is related to alchemy. None of us are alchemists except for you two, so we're going to wait until tomorrow, when Al gets here, to try and work on that- but don't worry about it, either of you. We'll fix this, I promise."

"…Okay," Roy said guardedly, chest tightening anxiously. He didn't want to think about that. He didn't want to even consider his memories, or the fact that he hadn't been on the drugs from that hospital in several days, or what any of that meant. "What else, then?"

Maes even looked more tense than before. He glanced between him and Ed, eyes narrowed and features worried. "I understand you might be reluctant to talk about it, you two, but we really need to know as much as you can tell us about what happened to you, right now. I wish it could wait, but… we can't." He bit his lip, averting his eyes again in a way that was almost frightening- because as unsettled as Maes clearly was, that did nothing at all to put Roy at ease for what was coming.

"Um… why?" Ed asked, obviously just as wary as Roy.

Maes, once again, looked away. Riza and Havoc looked uncomfortable with the question as well, Havoc toeing at the floor while Riza was suddenly no longer meeting their eyes, all things that all but terrified Roy, and Ed, too, stiffened under his arm, just as wary as he was.

Finally, with a heavy, reluctant sigh, Maes spoke.

"Because Amestris is about to break out into a civil war," he began, looking up to them both. "And I think you two have been the ones funding it."


	21. Chapter 21

Thank you all so much for reviewing!

This chapter is, essentially, Maes info dumping on us all, made even worse because I had a pretty bad headache when I wrote the last parts. Sorry, it has to be done. After this will hopefully be a few feelsy recovery chapters, but for now- have Maes talking ;u;

* * *

"Ed, you went missing four months ago. You and Al were in the city, taking some time off- and then, one day, we got a call from your brother saying you hadn't come home the night before. That's all we know- all that we _ever_ managed to find out." Maes sat back in his chair, folding his hands together over his knees get a better look at everyone around the room. "The case was assigned to me, for all the good I did… it was as if you'd just vanished into thin air."

They'd moved locations, despite Maes' better judgments; the small bedroom of before had been getting rather cramped, and this was setting up to be a _long_ meeting, one he hadn't wanted to do pressed in next to everyone else. Granted, his idea had been for just some people to leave the room- he'd wanted Ed and Roy to stay in bed and _rest,_ damn it- but, well. Here they were instead.

They'd moved a little bit of the ways down the hallway to where Maes suspected Roy's sisters collected to take a break during the nights, the largest room on this floor. He'd somehow ended up with a chair all to himself while Riza and Havoc, the former looking slightly uncomfortable, had a couch across the room. The madame still stood at the door, looking almost as if she was standing guard now, Vanessa by her side, and Ed and Roy…

Maes sighed, his gaze landing on the two alchemists again.

It had been a struggle to even make it down here, for the two of them. Roy had been steady on his feet, somehow- Maes was inclined to suspect a miracle- but it Roy had had to all but carry Ed every step of the way, glaring daggers whenever anyone had tried to help and only just managed to get Ed halfway comfortable on the softest looking couch in the room. Roy again had one now gloved hand on his arm, Maes' jacket still slung loosely around his shoulders, looking warily defensive, almost ready to become hostile in a way that chilled him.

Ed, at least, looked too tired to care about fighting them.

"So, you think they kidnapped me to that hospital, then?" Ed asked hoarsely, rubbing his eyes for a brief second. "We really didn't do _anything_ to actually get admitted there? They just- just grabbed us?"

Maes nodded gravely. "We think so now." It was with no small nudge of guilt that Maes admitted to himself their investigation had never once got close to that hospital Ed and Roy themselves had escaped from. Swallowing tightly, Maes pushed that particular realization back and continued on, glancing to Roy now. "I work in investigations, it was my case, but Roy, _you're_ Ed's superior- you were inextricably involved. We kept looking together, but about three weeks after Ed first went missing, you left the office, telling your lieutenant you were just checking up on a long shot; would be back soon. …That was the last time we saw you."

That had been one of the worst days in this investigation, he remembered reluctantly. It had taken them all many, many hours to even believe it- first Ed, then Roy? No, it had to have been a mistake, something, _anything_ else other than Roy going missing when Ed was already _gone…_

But Roy, just like Ed, appeared to have just vanished off the planet.

"We found your car in a hospital parking lot, actually," he said, hesitantly meeting Roy's eyes. "The same one you two escaped from. …I'm guessing you don't remember what you were doing there?"

Roy, after several seconds, just shook his head blankly, blinking. He didn't even try to say a word, only staring at him, and Maes sighed again.

"That's okay," he said quietly, trying to hide his disappointment. He'd not expected anything better than that, after all… but that wasn't important now. It just wasn't. They'd fix this, after all- they _would!_ The moment Al got here, that would be their number one focus, he swore it- maybe he couldn't do anything about the suffering Ed and Roy had endured, but he _could,_ at least, fix this.

He sighed deeply, forcing himself to focus again- for Ed and Roy's sake, if not his own. "Well, like I said- Ed, you went missing four months ago. Roy, you went missing two weeks after that. Now, alongside all of this, we were hearing some increased reports of revolts and riots, but these were all in the countryside, mostly just in some mining towns that were already a bit unstable anyway- none of this was supposed to be my concern, but I kept tabs on it, we all did. To- be safe, I suppose," he said grudgingly, shrugging. No need trying to explain their complicated, long-term goals to Roy right now. Maes sincerely hoped he would _never_ have to do that. He wanted to fix his best friend- not try to awkwardly, second-handedly teach him his entire life.

He wanted to fix both of them.

The revolts hadn't been a necessarily big concern of his, at the time, with his whole terrified focus still on Ed and Roy- but he and Riza just hadn't been able to turn a blind eye to the increasingly worrisome riots. They'd both recognized the pattern from what Amestris had done in Ishval's beginnings- how one conflict had ignited another, and another after that, how the aggressions had spread like an infection, and realizing that on the map had been like a kick to the gut-

But this time, Amestris' responses had actually been the right ones.

They'd frantically analyzed East City's responses more than once, all but irrationally terrified that this was set to become another Ishval- but, from everything Maes could see, even everything that Riza's paranoid eyes found, East City had been desperately trying to quell the rebellions.

And, even more than that, another Ishval wouldn't make any sense right now _._ The Ishvallan War's public support had been rock bottom by the end, and not even Bradley would be eager to jump right into another conflict- and besides, the cities that were crumbling had already been loyal Amestrian cities. They'd been mining towns, trading outposts… cities that the military wanted, and already had.

It had taken some time for Maes, Riza, and Roy's team to realize what the generals in East City probably already had.

It had been civil war in the making, all right.

This time, Amestris just wasn't the aggressor.

Maes grimaced unhappily, focusing his attention on Ed and Roy again. Christmas surely knew all of this from her own spies, and Riza and Havoc had learned it right along with him- his only concern was his best friend and the injured boy resting against his arm. "Things went along like this for about two months. Like I said, we were all way more focused on finding you than the rebellions going on out east. But, about eight weeks ago- that's when everything changed."

Ed glanced up at Roy worriedly, his eyes shadowed, hand clenching. He mumbled something quietly, far too quietly for Maes to have heard it- or anyone else, for that matter- and Roy nodded tensely back, squeezing his arm. His pale, unhealthy face shadowed with worry again, and when he finally looked back at Maes, there was nothing but anxious distrust in his dark eyes.

His best friend had never looked at him like that before, and something about it made sadness clench in his stomach.

"We know that that was about the time when the hospital forced you to make gold," he said gently, voice softening.

Once again, Ed and Roy both stiffened. Ed in particular looked so abruptly worried his face almost faded to a faint green.

Roy again shifted a little more in front of Ed, protectively, almost possessively in a way that Maes had never seen from him before this tragedy. He stared at Maes across the room, eyes narrowing, gloved hand tensing but not to snap, no; just tensing over Ed's arm, burned back stiff with anxiety, and when he spoke his voice was low with that same obvious, nervous sense of apprehension.

"We're not supposed to make gold, are we."

Maes' eyes widened, some of his own reluctance to broach this swept back by surprise. "You know that?"

Roy glanced uneasily at Ed again, Ed who was frowning over at Maes, still half hiding behind him and touching his sleeve but finally some of his familiar confidence back in his eyes. God, it was the most reassuring thing he'd seen all day. "Not exactly. We just… knew it was wrong, somehow."

Maes sighed, forcing himself to remain calm and, more importantly, keep his inner torment off his face as he looked over at Ed and Roy. He knew this wasn't a situation where showing his real anger, sadness, or guilt would _help,_ but- god, he was _furious._ It had been hard for him to realize at first, but it wasn't _just_ memory loss, that had been done to them. It was everything that stemmed from that. Roy trusted him, thank god, but only just, and Ed was flat out _afraid_ of him. He knew he'd done something wrong and was terrified of what Maes and the others were going to do to him because of it.

After all the suffering they'd already been through, now, more than ever, was when those two needed to be able to actually trust and rely on their friends.

They didn't need _this._

He took in another steadying breath, forcing himself to remain calm. He wasn't sure how much help that would be to Ed and Roy, but it would be better than potentially frightening them if he let them see how angry he was on his face- because neither were in any sort of mindset to realize he was not angry at _them._ "We know you were forced. Nothing bad is going to happen to you because of it. We just need to know what you did; that's all."

Once again, Ed and Roy shared an anxious, guarded glance, and it took most of Maes' self control to keep his face calm.

"I made gold for them," Ed finally admitted, still gripping onto Roy's sleeve and tensed, eyes narrowed as if he expected to need to defend himself any second now. "I'm not sure how much, but- but it was a lot. I did it every day pretty much, until…" he stopped, frowning, then just shook his head and shuddered. "Until the end," he finished decisively. Then, face still shadowed with something Maes couldn't quite define, the kid looked up at Roy, the hard distrust in his eyes softening in an instant. "Roy wasn't doing it for as long as me, but it was the same for him. I mean, I think? I didn't know near the end, but, I guess it was mostly the same, right?"

"Er…"

Maes, in the middle of already turning away to write the information down, stopped. He looked back at Roy, who- was suddenly flushing a faint red, a red that he didn't think had anything to do with fever. He suddenly looked distinctly uncomfortable- and this time, Maes realized, Ed was just as surprised as everyone else.

Roy coughed again, eyes averted as he suddenly pulled at his collar, shifting awkwardly and fidgeting. "Er," he stammered again, not looking at any of them. "Well, that's not exactly… accurate."

Maes hesitated, biting his lip. He had to fight the urge to try and comfort him, knowing that with Roy as he was now, it would do no good; a glance around the room told him the others felt the same way, while Ed was just staring, obviously completely lost. "Roy," he said gently after several moments, forcing himself to at least sound calm. "Roy, what do you mean? You need to tell us the truth, so we can be accurate about everything that's happened."

For a moment, Roy just fidgeted, looking even more embarrassed than before. Then, the flush high in his cheeks, and his eyes planted on the ground, and his voice just a smidgen higher than it ought to have been, he finally spoke.

"They tried to have me transmute gold. I just… couldn't."

There was an awkward silence.

"I… I nearly had it," Roy went on after several seconds, still refusing to look at any of them, and especially Ed. "I usually could get a few sparks out of the circle. A-and, I, I-" He flexed his injured hands, and even from across the room Maes could see his fingers shaking, voice wavering with either more embarrassment or, infinitely worse, pain. "I wasn't lying, before! I _can_ use my array! That's how I escaped- I drew it and I used it and it _worked,_ I wasn't lying, but- …I just never actually… could make gold."

Maes blinked.

He stared at Roy- almost red-faced, now, it was almost ridiculous how embarrassed he seemed, especially considering none of this was his fault in the _first place-_ then looked to Riza, who looked just as surprised as he felt. Sure, on one hand, Maes thought he should be relieved; the less gold for their enemy to work with, the better, but…

Roy couldn't use it? At all?

"I'm sorry," Roy said suddenly, regret clouding his face as he looked down at Ed, then, almost nervously, back to Maes. "They hurt Fullmetal because of it. They- they hurt-" He broke off, clearly fighting to steady himself enough to get the words out, his voice cracking. "They said they'd hurt him if I couldn't do it. I'm sorry- I tried, Fullmetal, you have to believe me, I didn't want them to- the circle just wouldn't _work,_ but- I was trying, I _was,_ that's why they put you in that room, Fullmetal, that's why you-"

Ed elbowed him in the side and rolled his eyes in the same motion, glaring at him. "Will you shut up? I don't know why you ever trusted a word they said; I think it's pretty apparent they were going to do whatever the hell they wanted no matter what you did. Dumbass."

"But I still could've-"

" _Dumbass,"_ Ed told him again, poking him even harder than he had before, this time hard enough it seemed Roy was helpless but to give him a weak smile back.

After several moments, it was Riza who cleared her throat, the noise quiet in the silence. Roy turned towards her automatically then flinched back, the hand on Ed's arm tightening and his expression transforming in an instant. That, too, was worrisome, and reminded him yet again of how Roy had reacted to first seeing Riza at all- but Maes didn't have time to think about that now.

"It might not be anything to worry about, sir," she said quietly. "Edward's a metal specialist. It makes sense he'd have little trouble with a reaction involving only metals, but you're a fire specialist. I don't think it's necessarily a cause for concern that you couldn't use a circle so removed from your specialty." She paused, transferring her gaze to Ed, giving him an encouraging smile. "What about you? Did you perform any other transmutations while there, or just this one?"

And this time, it was Ed's turn to dodge the question.

Ed squirmed just like Roy had, breaking their gazes to frown at his own lap. "Um. Yeah," he muttered, coughing. "Just that one."

Maes grimaced, sharing Riza's cautious glance. Well, if that wasn't the lie of the century. He looked just like Roy had, when trying to admit he'd never managed to work the gold array. He didn't believe it for a second, it was obvious no one else in the room did- but another look at Roy stopped him from speaking up.

Roy, clearly, knew it wasn't the truth. But Roy was still watching Ed with only concern in his eyes, and didn't seem bothered in the slightest about the lie, only just worried that the kid was okay.

The old Ed, he could've pressed, and tried to get the truth out of.

This Ed? The one who didn't know him? The one who, at least on some level, was actually afraid of him?

After what he'd already been through, Maes didn't want to risk it.

"Okay," he said gently, trying to reassure Ed that they were moving on. He saw the flicker of relief in Ed's eyes, the way the fear faded, and Maes had to take a second to press back his own sadness before continuing on. "Well, as I said, the little rebellions going off around the countryside really changed around two months ago. We can't track it exactly, but I think it's when you two- or… Ed, I guess, started making gold. Their manpower suddenly increased; they tripled in size, they went from using these ancient, half-broken guns to the cutting edge, smaller towns were just mysteriously giving up without any protest and joining- this all came out of _nowhere._ That kind of power and structure takes _money,_ money terrorists usually don't have, and to have kept it going this long? This would take an _incredible amount._ And given that the government prints the money, and the government itself had no idea where it was coming from… something like gold is the only thing that makes sense." Maes sighed gruffly, rubbing a hand over his face in exhaustion as he leaned back in his chair. "We weren't ready for it at all. We were fighting this small growth of uprisings but suddenly it was like an army had sprung up out of nowhere… it's been a nightmare."

Ed moved a little closer to Roy, who was just sitting there, staring at him like he barely understood the words coming out of his mouth. "Y-you think Ed's been… _funding this?"_ he said hoarsely, eyes widening.

Ed paled.

Havoc figured it out before Maes did, this time, the lieutenant pushing himself forward, leaning a bit to try and catch Ed's eyes. "We think someone took advantage of you. And probably not just you, Ed- this is a huge operation. There are probably dozens of others who were forced into helping these people; it's not all on you."

Riza nodded as well, and for all Roy didn't seem to want to look at her, _Ed_ didn't seem unsettled as she spoke up for him, the fear and guilt on his face seeming to withdraw with every word. "And if it wasn't you, they would've found somebody else. The only person to blame is the one who forced your hand."

Ed still didn't look very convinced, not even when Roy nodded emphatically and lent his voice for support. But at least he didn't look so awfully, dreadfully guilty he was about to choke on it, but Maes decided to move on anyway, and quickly, for Ed's sake. "Right," he said, clearing his throat, making sure Ed understood he agreed with everyone else in the room that this was _not_ his fault. "We all live in the capital, so we've been pretty well removed from the effects, but there weeks ago the Fuhrer declared the city under martial law. The rebels aren't here yet, most of us are still doubting they'll ever make it this far, but for now, there's no one allowed in or out. Blockades all over the city, there's a curfew up, the military on red alert- that's one of the reasons you're hiding here. The military's just too damn busy to properly keep you safe…" Maes paused here, trying to find the words to go on, then just sighed and shook his head. It'd be too complicated to explain how important they were as assets to the military- that in their current state of affairs, no matter how physically abused and emotionally torn Ed and Roy were, the Fuhrer would force them to fight. No need to confuse, or worry them, with that now. Maes and Riza had no intention of letting the Fuhrer get to them. They were safe here; that was all they needed to know.

Speaking of the Fuhrer, actually- though this was another detail he saw no reason to mention to Ed and Roy- no one had heard anything from him since the declaration of martial law. No common soldiers like Maes, at least. He had his suspicions a few of the generals knew where he'd gotten off to, but as far as HQ and the rest of the city knew, Bradley was as gone from the face of the earth as Ed and Roy had been until four days ago.

He didn't know what to make of it.

Just that it surely wasn't a good sign.

"Of course, we never put any of this shit together until that nurse ended up in your office," Havoc offered, scowling a bit. "Susan?"

Ed and Roy both stiffened, their eyes widening together, and that was all the reaction needed to confirm everything Maes and the others had suspected. "Susan?" Ed gasped aloud, letting go of Roy a little to lean forward, shaking his head. "A nurse? But- but that's-"

"Maes-" Roy started worriedly, uncertainty darkening his eyes.

Maes nodded back. He tried to fight the grimace he could feel growing on his face, knowing he should remain impartial, but- hell, this _was_ going to be his least-favorite part of this entire conversation, and he'd already hated most of it already. "Yes," he admitted tightly, jaw clenching. "Three weeks ago, this woman, your Susan, came in to the police to report that her psychiatric patients were being mistreated, but her hospital wouldn't do anything about it. She even reported your names, but, unfortunately, most people don't know you by your names- not even other military officers. Most of us know you by your alchemist codenames, so the officer she spoke to didn't even realize the implications." Maes glanced away in annoyance, clenching his jaw. That was all it had taken, just the bad luck for Susan to get this green, young officer… this could've been ended a _month ago_ for them, he could've saved Ed and Roy so much pain if it hadn't been for this…

But Maes had already been agonizing over this for the past week, as had all of Roy's staff. No sense in continuing to do so even more now.

"Well, with the country on the brink of a damn war, nobody cared about this report- it took three weeks for someone who knew your names to finally bother to read it. I got it straight away then, but… that's still three weeks later than it should've been. I'm really sorry it took so long… though even if we had gotten it sooner, I'm not sure how much we would've been able to help you," he admitted sadly, shoulders slumping. "The first thing we did was call the hospital, and they said they had no patients admitted with your names. I'll be honest, we _still_ don't know how they pulled that off. And I led some of your men there a few nights ago, Roy, after you'd come back home- this was definitely some sort of anti-military operation. The entire ward was completely cleaned out, and not one single staff member returned- and we kept watch waiting for them. It was definitely where you two were held, but there's next to no evidence left there of it." He paused, grimacing again. "We're still holding Susan in custody, and the other _nurse_ who worked with you. Ann. Deciding what to charge them with."

 _Or if we get to charge them at all,_ he thought miserably.

"Um.." Roy cleared his throat, his gloved hand clenching a little. "You said you found… nobody there?"

Maes blinked in surprise. "Yes. Er- why? Should we have?"

The two alchemists glanced at each other again, looking uncertain and confused. "Well… yes," Ed said, tilting his head. "We left both my guards behind. They were alive but we tied them up, they weren't going anywhere- and Roy did the same to his guards, too. There… there was _nobody_ there? At all?"

Maes sighed in disappointment, shoulders slumping again. This Justin had probably cleared them all out of there once he'd realized his prisoners had escaped- more people who had hurt Ed and Roy, more people who he might not be able to punish for it. "No," he sighed regretfully. "There was no one. When we're done here, do you think you could describe them to us? Given the situation, there's really no promises we can make, but… we _will_ look for them, at least. We will do everything we can to try and stop them from getting away with this."

It took several moments, but Ed finally nodded- if hesitantly, seeming to doubt how much help he'd be, but at least willing to try, or unwilling to say he couldn't help. Roy looked even more reluctant than Ed, though, and when all the attention turned to him, first went silent- but then, pale and cold, he spoke.

"I killed my guards. I don't know what happened to the bodies, but you don't need to bother looking for them. They're dead."

This time, it was Maes' turn to stiffen. And Riza and Havoc right along with him.

 _Dead?_

They were _dead?_

Maes opened his mouth, questions already rising, and by the look on Ed's face this was a bombshell to him, too, but the coldly, almost desperately withdrawn expression on his best friend was enough to keep him quiet. He swallowed tightly, disbelief and shock making him sink back against the chair, and for several moments, he had no idea what to say.

Roy's gloved hand, clenched tighter than ever before, was what told him what had to have happened.

Roy had already told them he'd used his array before, after all.

And now, they knew how.

He'd killed his guards with it.

Maes didn't know whether to regret that, because based off the look on Roy's face alone, that was two murders that already haunted him- or to indulge in that very small, vindictive part of him that was actually selfishly glad, that someone who had hurt his best friend so badly was dead.

"…I see," he finally said, fighting to keep his voice steady. He didn't trust himself to say anything else; still unsure of what to feel.

Roy continued to avert his eyes stubbornly, his pale face just as stubbornly clear of any emotion. "I'm not sure how much use I can be in describing them to you. I was pretty heavily drugged. All I can remember now is that one looked a little like you," he nodded at Maes, "and the other had dark skin, white hair, and red eyes. I'm sorry, but that's all."

This time, it took all of Maes' self control not to react outwardly. One half-glance at Riza showed her in the exact same state of restrained shock that he was in.

An Ishvallan?

An Ishvallan was one of the people who had done this to Roy?

Maes' stomach turned uncomfortably, a cold wave shivering down his spine.

That, he knew instantly, was one particular bit of information they'd need to avoid discussing with Roy, no matter what- although he wasn't sure if it even mattered.

The moment Roy had his memories back, the fact that one of his torturers had been Ishvallan was going to transform this, in his best friend's mind, from an undeserved assault… into retribution that was long overdue.

The fact that Roy had killed the man was not going to make this any easier.

Maes shook his head to himself miserably, rubbing at his exhausted eyes as he sank back into his chair, body sore and fatigued and heart now just as heavy as well. They'd all felt the strain of it, these past few weeks, and his team and Roy's even moreso, dealing with the sudden almost war while also desperately looking for Ed and Roy at the same time… god, these past few days was probably the most relaxed he'd felt in half a year. He still was barely getting any sleep.

Maes bit back a curse a moment later, staring back over at Ed and Roy. What was he complaining about, again? He'd just been doing his job. Overworked, maybe, but they all were- they'd all just been doing their jobs while Ed and Roy were being, by the sound of it, _tortured._

There was no comparison.

He felt guilty for even _thinking_ it.

"There's still one thing I'm unclear on, though," Roy ventured on finally, seeming very eager to move the conversation on. Maes returned his attention to his best friend immediately, just as eager to do the same, and didn't miss how Roy's gaze landed on everyone else, but slid straight past Riza. "If this really is part of the civil war's efforts, then why would these people go to so much effort to get _us?_ Surely there are alchemists who aren't in the military. Hell, I think Justin himself was an alchemist- why didn't he just use the array himself?"

Ah. _Finally,_ a safe topic. "Well," Maes began, starting to smile, "that's actually what we're about to find out."

Ed and Roy, predictably, only looked more confused than before. Maes reached down for his briefcase on the floor and glanced at his watch in the same moment. Nodding satisfactorily, he nodded over at Havoc, gesturing to the door. "It's about time for him to get here. Mind going downstairs to wait, make sure he doesn't get lost?"

The lieutenant nodded back immediately, getting to his feet to head for the door, leaving Maes to continue explaining. "As you two have learned, just because making gold is illegal doesn't mean it's _impossible._ The government has to have some way of finding alchemically made gold, though; otherwise it'd be too easy for any one alchemist to completely destabilize our entire economy. So-" He paused, rooting around until he found what he was looking for, then withdrew it with a grin. "We use this."

It looked relatively innocuous. Just a small bottle of a murky blue liquid that was, for all intents and purposes, relatively harmless. Ed and Roy still stared at it in complete confusion, and so warily it was as if they expected it to explode in his hand. Holding back another smile, Maes started to explain. "This is a dye that reacts with traces of alchemy. It's safe and relatively inexpensive; every military office has some on hand just in case they have a suspicion of illegal gold. Here, I'll show you."

Carefully, Maes slipped his wedding band off, gripping it in a handkerchief as he raised it up for all to see. "My ring, I know for a fact, is absolutely, one hundred percent, safe. Which is the only reason I'd ever do this to it- but, here. Watch." Maes dabbed a generous amount of the dye on his ring, then raised it up to the room again so they could all see the blue drops roll off the band without consequence, each one soaking into the cloth one by one. "That's what is supposed to happen, to gold not made by an alchemist."

Ed shifted uncomfortably, frowning at it. "…What if you did that to mine, then?"

Maes shrugged. "The entire rock would be dyed red. No matter how good an alchemist you are, you can't change that. At least, that's what is _supposed_ to happen… I have a little theory that I'm going to test out momentarily that may prove otherwise."

And, speak of the devil- with those words, Maes could already hear the footsteps coming up the stairs. Smiling again, his excitement growing, Maes got to his feet, crossing the room to open the door, just in time to wave Havoc and Alex Louis back in his direction.

"Thanks so much for coming," he said warmly, beaming up at the Armstrong.

"The pleasure's all mine, sir!" he exclaimed, so loudly he knew Ed and Roy would've heard it all the way from the back corner from behind him. "Anything for the colonel!"

Maes smirked, knowing both just how true that statement was, and just how much dreadful trouble they could get into if anyone else heard it. "Come on, then. Let's get started."

Alex Louis followed behind him into the room, and, as he'd predicted, immediately sprang upon a very startled Ed and Roy, boisterously exclaiming how glad he was to see them again, how relieved he was that they were okay, the honor that it was to be here- if Maes had had just a _little_ more sleep, anything approaching a healthy hour all week, he might've been able to listen, even chime in once or twice. As it was, all he had the fortitude to do was allow Riza to run interference as he pulled out everything he needed, setting it down in the table of the center of the room and waiting for a moment to break in so he could get the show started.

"Ed, Roy," he finally began, smiling encouragingly down at the two, seemingly overwhelmed, alchemists. "This is Major Armstrong. He's a State Alchemist, just like you. To really prove my point, I'd need to get a civilian alchemist up here, too, but I'm afraid I couldn't find any willing to commit a felony with little assurance of safety- so this will have to do."

Alex Louis stepped forward next, pointing towards the waiting array Maes had pulled out. "This is the same array Lieutenant Colonel Hughes and I found that you were being forced to use. From what I can gather, it's needlessly complicated- I don't think it was drawn by a metal alchemist. On top of that, it's several transmutations crammed into one; the initial transformation, then the purification, then the refinement. I've studied it some, so I'm capable of it, but many alchemists wouldn't be."

"That probably explains why Colonel Mustang couldn't use it," Riza said quietly, frowning at it. "Right, sir?"

Roy averted his eyes once again, hands clenching a little and a distinctly uncomfortable light in his eyes. "Ah. Right," he muttered, staring very hard at Armstrong.

There was another awkward silence. Riza looked stricken at the downright cold answer, almost shocked, while Maes again stared at his best friend, his eyes narrowed.

This was something they were going to have to talk about. There was no avoiding it anymore.

But, that was for a later time.

"Like he said," Maes went on, clearing his throat, "this is the exact same array you used to make gold, Ed. Major?"

And, in short order, the alchemist moved forward, first examining the small rock Maes had left in the center of the circle- and then, without further ado, pressing both hands to the circle.

The rock, in a blur of electric blue light, transformed into one shiny, very small, nugget of gold.

Ed and Roy in particular looked uncomfortable at this, and Maes made sure to move on quickly.

"From what I've been told, each alchemist's alchemy is uniquely identifiable. Which means, this," he raised the dye's bottle to shake it gently, "can be altered, to simply not respond to certain alchemists. And if I'm right, it _has_ been."

Without waiting longer, because Maes had his taste for dramatic effect but certainly not now, after everything everyone had been through, he uncapped the bottle, and squeezed yet another generous amount down onto Alex Louis' alchemically crafted gold.

He held his breath.

And, once again, just like it had with his wedding band- there was absolutely no reaction.

It was exactly what he had expected- and exactly what he had feared.

State Alchemists could make gold, and sell it, all that they wanted.

Ed and Roy had been taken because they were State Alchemists.


	22. Chapter 22

Thank you all so much for reviewing!

Well, stuff happened, so I just wasn't able to finish this chapter in time. Sorry about that. I figured splitting it up would be nicer to you guys then putting the whole thing off, so I'm posting part one today, and part two on Friday. Sorry!

* * *

Ed woke up to a surprisingly empty room.

He blinked. Then he narrowed his eyes, and blinked again.

Still, empty.

It felt later than it ought to, like he'd just slept for five hours instead of the intended five minutes- but, he supposed he should've seen this coming. He'd been exhausted after the meeting yesterday, and Roy's military friends had seemed to have other things to talk about, but Maes had taken one long look at them and told them to rest, that they'd take care of everything.

It wasn't that Ed had particularly liked knowing he was being discussed behind his back, but he felt safer away from them all anyway and had been tired enough not to care.

Roy had helped him back to his old room, staying with him while Ed had just put his head down and dozed. Roy had looked just as tired as him, grateful to be alone and away from such a crowded room and tense discussion, and Ed was pretty sure they'd been left mostly alone after that- he'd slept straight through whenever they'd been checked on, at least.

Ed had gone straight to sleep the moment they'd ended up back in there, curling on his side and trying to ignore the pain on his back, while Roy had sat beside him and promised to keep watch. There was nothing to keep watch _for,_ probably, anymore, but it left him feeling safe all the same…

And now, he wasn't there.

Ed frowned a little, starting to push himself up as he blinked his eyes open wider, staring around the empty room. Roy wasn't in his line of sight, he knew _that_ straight away, but he could still hear him, just enough to forestall the panic- quiet mutters in his low, familiar voice, and what sounded like… splashes of water?

Ed frowned again, tilting his head, one hand resting in Roy's now empty spot.

"Shit… shit…" Roy was grumbling now, just barely audible- then another, slightly louder splash. _"Shit…"_

Well, he couldn't just ignore that. And he sure as hell wasn't going back to sleep _now._

Slowly, uncomfortably, Ed worked himself upright, moving as carefully as he could to avoid aggravating the burns- or making noise to attract Roy. He was feeling better and better the more time that passed, and was sure it had a lot more to do with just being safe and knowing Roy was safe rather than any actual healing on his back. His head felt clearer finally, too, no more of those damn _drugs-_ but no matter how much safer he felt, he couldn't just be content to lie there while Roy was off doing god knew what. Grimacing to himself, Ed finally worked himself to the very edge of the bed, blanket pulled along with him, and set off after Roy's grumbling.

Roy's old room was small, befitting a young child, even if it hadn't been really used in some time. Ed hadn't gotten a great look around earlier, with so much happening at once, but now he was actually _looking._ There was a smaller room off to the side, probably a bathroom or something, where light and Roy's grumbles were both coming from. Ed blinked at it, rubbing his eyes, then carefully limped forward.

Sure enough, it was a bathroom. And sure enough, there was Roy.

Ed just didn't have a fucking clue what was going on beyond that.

Roy was sitting on the edge of a partly filled bathtub, brow furrowed in concentration and that one hand with the glove raised. His shirt was off- not that it mattered, with his torso still wrapped in bandages, all over- and his pants were splattered with darkening water stains, not leaving Ed to wonder about why his shirt had been removed.

He still sat there grumbling, too, muttering something under his breath- and grimacing at the array on the back of the glove like it held all the answers to the world in it.

Then, decisively, he raised his hand and snapped.

Nothing happened.

Unless Ed counted Roy cursing as something that happened, in which case- well, yeah.

Ed rolled his eyes, letting himself crumple gently to the floor in a huge, warm knot of blanket. "Having fun?"

Roy, predictably, jumped a mile. Ed couldn't stop himself from snickering under his breath.

"Full- Fullmetal," he stammered, leaning back to blink dumbly at him, gloved hand falling slack. The annoyance on his tired face became concern and he started to rise, reaching his hand out. "What are you-"

"I'm _fine,_ bastard. Fine enough to hop a few feet, anyway." He scowled a bit, settling himself more comfortably against the door; the blankets were so much bigger than him it felt almost as nice as the bed had. "You're the one who doesn't look fine."

Roy blinked dumbly at him for several moments, clearly taken aback by his sudden appearance and still unsure if he should be worried about him or not. Ed kept his strongest smirk on, because as much as he'd missed Roy being coddled was starting to get old- and, finally, was rewarded when Roy just slumped back, turning back towards the water with the sulkiest look on his face, and sighed.

"I'm trying to relearn my alchemy. Operative word being _trying."_ He wiggled his gloved fingers again, scowling at them. "It's not working very well."

Ed winced a little, glancing away. "I knew you weren't telling the truth when you said you could use it."

"I _can,_ though. I _can_ use it!" Roy snapped, obviously frustrated. "Just- not well. Or… reliably." He grimaced again, leaning against the wall a little more and refusing to look at him. "I didn't say anything to Maes because he wouldn't have given me the gloves at all, but I need to get better at this. I _have_ to, if I want to be able to protect us."

Ed didn't bother pointing out that they shouldn't need protection anymore, and that Roy especially wasn't supposed to have to protect _him_. He'd feel a hell of a lot better if _he_ had some way to protect himself and Roy, too.

"I used it in that hospital, more than once, I don't know how. And it's _working_ now, I think, something's _happening,_ I just-" Roy abruptly raised his hand again, snapping his fingers hard; the array on the glove sparked, the water he was snapping _at_ wavered a bit- but even Ed could tell, it hadn't been what Roy had wanted to happen.

Ed bit his lip, glancing away uncomfortably when Roy's face fell angrily again.

"I just can't do it," the bastard muttered, leaning back against the wall with a miserable, defeated sigh.

After a crushing silence, Roy exerted a visible effort, turning back to look at Ed with a stubbornly sort of hopeful expression on his face- like he didn't believe anything would come of it but couldn't help but hope. "Don't suppose you have any advice for me? As long as you're refusing to stay in bed and rest, after all…"

Ed made a face at him, annoyance rising again. He'd been resting for hours now, had been in bed for practically four days straight; he'd move around if he damn well wanted to. The annoyance was short-lived, however, as he saw the uncertain hope on Roy's face and his still gloved hand again, the array that lay dormant no matter how hard Roy had to be trying to work it.

It reminded Ed of how he'd felt earlier that day, when he found out he'd had automail- but he just couldn't have it _now._

That he still couldn't protect himself.

"I don't know," Ed sighed, looking away himself. "I can't tell you to do anything more than you're already doing. I might be a good alchemist but I can't just magically remember how any of it works. I- why are you even doing this in here, anyway? Like that?" He gestured at the tub full of water, unable to help shying away a little at his own memories of the fucking ice baths. God, that felt so _long ago…_

Roy, however, seemed to have no such aversion, or if he did he just wasn't showing it. "I know I'm a flame specialist. I… remember that much." He shrugged coldly, shutting his eyes. "Figured if I was going to practice learning how to set things on fire, I might as well do it in the water." Roy hesitated a moment, pale face shifting. "…You should be safe over there, but I'd stay that far back, just in case."

Ed nodded. Roy was right. If his gut instinct was for him to stay back, then Ed was just going to trust it; from what little he'd seen, this alchemy was not something to mess around with.

"Actually-" Roy said suddenly, opening his eyes again to frown down at him, "you should go back and sleep some more. I'm not tired, I'll probably be doing this for a while- I'll be back in there before morning, but you're hurt, so-"

"Oh, shut up, will you." Rolling his eyes, Ed curled himself even more firmly in the huge blanket, so wrapped up in it he couldn't even feel the cold floor. "You're hurt, too, and I don't see you laying down and resting. Maybe I can't give you much advice, but if you're going to stay up and practice, I'm staying here, too." He shot Roy another glare, just daring him to protest this time- and it took a couple seconds, but the bastard had known him long enough to know he was serious, and Ed was finally pleased to see him sit back with yet another long, suffering, and defeated groan.

"Fine," Roy snapped, shaking his head. "We can stay here- _for now._ But we're going back to bed soon… if you won't go by yourself, then both of us. _Soon,_ Fullmetal, so don't get too comfortable."

Ed smirked again, knowing his point had been made, and shut his eyes, leaning against the door a little more and dozing off to the sound of Roy snapping.

* * *

The next morning, of course, he paid for the late night.

Funny, how despite being so worn out he was probably sleeping twelve hours a day, the short, late night disruption _still_ had the power to knock him down flat. He'd been up not even ten minutes before it the exhaustion hit him again, too; at first he'd really thought he'd have more energy today, that getting up with Roy was a great idea- and, well, now, here he was.

Ed rested his hand on his arm, scowling angrily down at the table, and heaved out a great, exhausted sigh.

He wasn't going to fall asleep down here. Was _not._

Roy's friend smiled slightly at him from across the table, seemingly a cross between amused and sympathetic. "You know, you wouldn't be so tired if you'd stayed in bed like we'd suggested."

Ed grunted in annoyance. Maybe that was where Roy got his nagging from; his best friend was a professional at it. Not bothering to answer him, or Roy's slightly more sympathetic look, he stubbornly kept his mouth closed and just returned his gaze to the table and his plate of breakfast. Mostly just rice. The others had something else Roy's aunt had brought out, something Xingese that he couldn't identify but was god damn tantalizing as far as he was concerned, but after a few weeks of nothing but air, he had to admit this was probably safer.

He probably would've been able to eat it a little easier if he had the energy to pick his head up, but, that was neither here nor there, by this point.

Roy's one gloved hand, he'd noticed, stayed gloved, and hidden under the table, the entire time. His fingers kept on twitching in something close to a snapping motion.

Ed groaned, tearing his eyes away to glare back at the table, slumping over a little more. The thing was, he knew Maes was right, too. He would've had more strength if he'd stayed upstairs and slept a little more, let Roy go off with his friend, but he- he _couldn't._ It was one thing to be up there with Roy, but… being up there alone…

Ed shuddered, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment and violently fighting back another cold wave of terror.

That was too much like padded cell he'd been locked in in the end.

He didn't care that he was safe here. That things were different now, and the door wasn't locked, and he finally had the freedom to _move_ and if he wanted out all he had to do was throw the door open himself. That difference wasn't enough to matter to him anymore.

If Roy wasn't there, he wasn't staying up there. That simple.

He just couldn't be alone anymore.

"So…" Ed swallowed hard, trying to fight back his own fear and the horrible memory of- of _that place._ "S-so, is- is this what we're doing, from now on?" Ed asked, forcefully pressing the sleep out of his voice to sound at least halfway alive. "Just staying here with you guys? That's it?"

Maes smiled again, though this time it seemed more of a mask for distress than a genuine expression. "Until you're both feeling much better, yes. We really don't think the military had anything to do with what happened to you now, but it's just safest that you stay away from there until you've recovered. The military… isn't someone you want to meet with in anything but your strongest, let's put it that way." He grimaced slightly, a shadow crossing his face in quiet, muted distress. "Even when you're on their side."

Next to him, Roy frowned slightly, tilting his head to the side. With the dark circles under his eyes, he looked just as tired as Ed- even if he was hiding it a bit better. "And by recovered, you mean our memories."

There was an uncomfortable pause.

"I'll take that as a yes," Ed muttered, sharing an unhappy look with Roy.

Maes leaned back with a sigh, slipping his glasses off to clean them on his sleeve and, Ed suspected, so he'd have the excuse not to meet their eyes. "I know asking you two not to worry is a bit much, but- please just try to be hopeful about this. Al's getting here tonight, Ed, and the only person I know who's a better alchemist than him is _you._ It'll probably take a little bit of research, but he'll be able to fix both of you. I promise."

Ed slumped a little more, poking at his rice with the fork again. He knew he had no reason _not_ to believe Roy's friend, but as much as he'd promised that, it was starting to remind him of the hospital- how they'd just promised over and over that he and Roy would feel better soon but had had no reasoning or proof behind it. Just promised it until everything had fallen apart, and they'd given up even trying to pretend what they were doing was for their benefit.

He was glad Roy had found his family, he really, honestly was- but that wasn't enough for him anymore. This was where Roy wanted to be, but the longer it went on, the less content Ed felt here. It wasn't safe for _him._ It wasn't what _Ed_ wanted.

He really, really wished Al would be here.

Suddenly, there was a commotion outside.

Loud clangs of metal, and voices back and forth, voices that sounded almost like they were escalating into an argument. Ed jumped back, swiveling around to stare and felt Roy do the same next to him, instantly tense, almost fearful of what was happening now. It sounded as if the noises were coming from the street, the outside that neither of them had yet seen- and it didn't sound good, either.

Roy moved in front of him just a little, gloved hand tensing.

Maes was suddenly on his feet, moving in front of them both but not withdrawing his weapon, looking confused instead of afraid. "What is he… Roy, put your hand _down,_ it's not- how did he…?"

Then, before Roy's friend had had time to say anything more- or Roy had even tried to lower his gloved hand- the door burst open, and… _someone…_ burst straight inside.

Someone, or _something-_ that was about all that Ed could say for certain.

It was a _gigantic_ something, he could only presume it was a person, standing there in a suit of armor surely ten times Ed's size and eerie red lights for _eyes,_ and- and-

And one of the things Ed remembered seeing in that padded cell.

Just like that horrifying, talking corpse of a woman- that suit of armor had been one of the things those deadweight drug cocktails and weeks on end locked in that tiny room and _alone_ had made him see.

He flinched backwards again, panic lurching in his stomach. Roy moved in front of him just a little more.

Maes, meanwhile, was still up and moving, moving _towards_ that monstrosity like he wasn't even afraid of it, not even with a weapon in hand as he gestured and moved closer, looking more surprised than anything else. "I thought you weren't getting in until tonight! How on earth did you-"

"Where is he?! Where is Ed?!"

Ed flinched a little more away in the same motion as Roy jerking in front of him, and there was no doubt about it now, his hand was raised and ready to snap.

That _thing_ wanted… _him?!_

Maes stepped a little closer, hand reaching out that suddenly looked incredibly small in the face of the gigantic suit of armor. "He's fine, you just-"

" _Where's my brother?!"_

…What?

That… that was his brother?

That was Al?

Ed stared blankly.

 _That_ was _Al?_

But-

But that… thing… didn't even look human. It was huge, seven feet tall at least and could probably crush Ed just by stepping on him. Its eyes didn't look human either, red lantern lights that moved like eyes but _weren't,_ and its voice was somehow metallic and like a child's all at once, it- it didn't make _sense,_ because it _sounded_ like the brother he'd talked to on the phone, and Al was his brother, but this-

 _This_ was him?

Before he'd had even a second process a single thing, Ed found himself already upright, standing with the chair for support and staring up at the intruder, absolutely, totally lost- but for the first time in days… hopeful.

 _Al…?_

Just the movement alone was enough to attract the suit of armor's attention. Those two red, inhuman eyes immediately went straight to him and Ed froze in place, part of him just wanting to _run_ but the rest of him frozen in place, because if that really was him, if that really was _Al-_ he'd been looking for him for so _long,_ just wanting to find his family, if that was really, actually _him-_

" _Brother!"_

The next thing he knew, the suit of armor was on his knees in front of him, settling down with a _clang_ and his two massive hands trembling on his shoulders. He was as cold as Roy was warm and as terrifying as Roy was safe, but he was just kneeling there, staring at him like- like he wasn't just everything _Ed_ had ever been looking for, but that _Ed_ was everything _he_ had ever been looking for.

"Br- Brother," he stammered again, "I… they told me you were hurt, so I won't, but I… I want to hug you. I really, r-really want to hug you," and that was all he had to say, because with that, Ed finally knew it was really, truly him. It was his _Al._

A lump formed in his throat.

Then Ed flung himself forward, crashing straight into the cold, hard metal, and wrapped his arm around his brother as far as it would go.


	23. Chapter 23

Thank you all so much for reviewing!

Sorry this one's out a bit late; stuff happened again. Also, remember I split this chapter up into two parts, this part and last update's part, which is why these two might seem a bit short and offish. Hopefully, they'll be two more chapters left at Christmas' place after this one, then we'll be very close to being done! Hope you guys enjoy! :D

* * *

Roy left, soon after Al's arrival.

On one hand- he was thrilled to see him. Absolutely _thrilled._ He'd been able to tell Ed's spirits were dragging the longer they'd spent here, in Roy's old home, surrounded by Roy's friends, but without any of his _own_ family. Roy was thrilled and relieved the moment he'd realized who Al was, and even more put at ease the moment Ed had thrown himself into his brother's… er… huge, and metallic… arms.

All right. Roy was a _little_ unsettled by Al. He could admit that much. Maybe he was being paranoid; well, Roy figured he had a right to be paranoid- but, in his eyes?

Al was a seven foot tall suit of walking armor- and Roy wasn't _blind;_ there was nothing in that suit of armor at all- and yet he sounded like a ten year old, and hugged Ed like he was a glass statue. It was all very strangle and _very_ unsettling.

But Ed was happy that Al was here, and one look at Maes confirmed to Roy that this was safe.

After about five minutes of just watching the two brothers, Roy decided it was about time for him to stop intruding, and retreated back upstairs.

He'd had days with his family. He could afford Ed at least a few hours alone with his.

* * *

Roy explored the second floor a little more after that, somewhat grateful to be left alone as well. He found a second bedroom he could use, if Al ended up wanting the other bed with Ed- which, at this point, he wouldn't be surprised by. Roy wasn't sure how keen he was on being separated, but… well, it had to happen _sometime,_ didn't it? Ed would be fine, he tried to convince himself, Ed had been skittish and nervous and frightened up until now, but he wasn't _alone_ now. He had his brother. He wouldn't be left alone or unprotected- he had that giant, hulking suit of armor there to keep him safe, and keep him calm.

He'd be okay. They both would. It'd... it'd be fine.

Yeah.

And if not, Roy conceded unhappily, well, he was pretty sure Maes was still skulking around this place at night. Ed would be fine with Al- and Roy, at least, would have company.

But, for now…

Roy settled himself down in his, for now, new room. He looked down at his one gloved hand, the other still too bruised and swollen for the glove resting in his pocket. Both his hands still hurt- a hell of a lot, actually- but the one he'd spent most of the night trying to snap with was by far the worst. It ached and stung and burned and even as he tried to tense his hand, curling it into a position to snap, it _hurt-_ and he understood why Maes had tried to warn him now; his friend had tried to tell him not to snap too much with his hands still injured, and he was _right,_ he shouldn't have done this-

But he needed to be able to protect himself.

He _had_ to.

Roy stared down to his glove once more. He stared down at the wet, soaked towel he'd grabbed when he changed rooms- one that was too wet to be set on fire.

He sighed again.

Then, he raised his hand, and snapped.

This time, it only took a few minutes for his hand to hurt too badly to go on- and he'd been no more successful these few tries than he'd been all the night before. Not that he even knew what success would _look like,_ really; it wasn't as if he could catch the thing on fire- which was rather the point-

But he wanted _something_ more than this!

Roy groaned, flopping heavily onto his back, and let his dammed useless, throbbing, _useless_ hand flop right next to him.

What was he doing _wrong?_ He understood the science behind it! At least, he thought he did… it was simple enough, wasn't it? He was a flame specialist. His array controlled oxygen, and the flint-tipped fingers of his gloves provided sparks with every snap. All he had to do was tunnel the oxygen; create pure pockets of gas that would yield to an explosion- that didn't _sound_ too difficult. In fact, what he'd done in the hospital, attacking the guards to suck every bit of oxygen straight out of their bodies- that sounded harder than what he was trying to do now.

Roy sighed again, lifting his gloved hand up into the air to stare at the inscrutable array. That circle that he'd carved in his own blood and that he'd used to fight his and Fullmetal's way to safety. That array that was _his,_ just like _his_ blue; it belonged to him and only him and that was the end of it.

That nightmare thing that had haunted him for _weeks,_ and that was still haunting him now because it just wouldn't _work._

He let his hand drop limply back down to his chest again, clenching his useless fist, and tried to block out the screams he still remembered causing with just a single snap.

At some point later, Roy was just too tired and displeased with himself to care if it was just minutes or a full hour of lying there, feeling sorry for himself, there were footsteps in the hallway. He clenched his fist again, forcing himself to stay down no matter the quiet quiver of fear through his heart. He was safe now. Nothing to be afraid of here. Just Maes or Fullmetal or- it didn't matter who, because he was _safe_ now, and that was all.

Roy squeezed his eyes shut, just as annoyed with himself now as he was shaken, and refused to let himself move a single inch or so much as tense his hand to snap.

Not like it would've done him any good if he'd tried it, anyway.

The footsteps continued right up until they reached his door, which he'd left cracked open, just in case. _(In case of WHAT, you paranoid lunatic?)_ The door creaked gently, pushed inwards, and there was another beat of tense silence.

Then:

"Sir?"

And that was all it took for every last attempt of Roy's to remain calm to fly out the window and shatter on the ground down below.

He knew that voice.

It was probably the _only one_ that he knew anymore, aside from Ed's- but he knew it.

"Sir, Lieutenant Colonel Hughes is requesting you back downstairs- or, for me to stay up here with you, if that's what you'd prefer. As long as both you and Edward are unwell, he'd rather neither of you be left alone for too long." There was another beat of silence. "Additionally," she went on, her voice sharper than before, "Hughes _told_ you not to waste all your time practicing alchemy, and he was right. I'm going to have to agree with him and tell you to stop it now before you make your problems worse."

Roy stiffened again, his eyes jerking open in surprise. He flinched helplessly, staring first down at his hand, then back over to the door.

Riza Hawkeye stood there, frowning down at him, her arms folded, and her face as unreadable as stone.

"I-" He stared back to his hand in surprise, working his jaw uselessly. "How did you-"

"Your fingertips are bleeding, sir. I've seen it often enough before." She paused, expression still implacable; when he still did not move, just blinking up at her in disbelief, the lieutenant crossed over to sit on a chair across from the room, seeming to accept that he wasn't moving.

Roy, for his part, was too surprised by her instant deduction to take issue with that. Even though that was _definitely_ something he took issue with.

He looked down at his white-gloved hand, and his eyes widened to see that she was _right._ It wasn't anything gruesome or too painful, but the tips of his thumb and index finger had been dyed a faint, pinkish red.

He hadn't even _noticed…_

Roy paused again, narrowing his eyes as he looked from his hand to his silent lieutenant.

He hadn't even noticed- but _she_ had.

Riza shifted after several moments, seeming a little uncomfortable under the sudden gaze; uncomfortable, or at least taken aback. "Is something wrong, sir?"

Something wrong…?

Was there something wrong?

Roy laughed hollowly, his eyes sliding shut. Understatement of the fucking century, that.

"…Sir?"

 _Riza Hawkeye Riza Hawkeye Riza Hawkeye…_

Squeezing his eyes shut again, Roy forcibly unclenched his fist and used it to push himself upright, hand stinging and back screaming but breaths heavy, shoulders slumping with the weight of everything that he didn't want to remember but that he _knew_ was true. He looked up at the lieutenant flatly, holding her gaze even she pulled back as if trying to break his. "We know each other," he finally said, voice steady and flat. "Don't we."

"…Well, yes, sir," she halfway stammered, eyes widening in uncertainty. "You know all of us. You work with us, you-"

"That's not how I mean."

Riza stopped again. She narrowed her eyes, unshakeable and unmovable.

"Yes," she finally admitted, voice steady. "We know each other from before the military."

Roy's heart lurched uncomfortably. His mangled, bleeding hands suddenly stung- his mangled, bleeding, murdering hands.

The confession of guilt rose in his throat, the words thick and poisonous, and he opened his mouth for them to spill out only for his breath to catch and his heart to clench. He opened his mouth again, trying to say it, but the words froze again, sticking like molasses in his throat, because he'd _burned her,_ but she was just sitting there before him like she trusted him, like she _wanted_ to be there- he couldn't understand this-

"How did we know each other?" he finally managed, all but desperate with the fear and strain of it. "I… remember you. More than the others. I know that much, but- but I don't know _how,_ and…" He fought back the tightness in his throat, trembling. "Please. _How,_ exactly, do we know each other?"

 _How did I hurt you?_

 _And why on earth are you still here with me after it?_

Riza was silent for several moments, just watching him, but the pain or reluctance he might've imagined from somebody he'd brutalized so badly just wasn't there. She wasn't flinching away from him and even though she'd prefaced this whole conversation by claiming she was up here under Maes' orders, that clearly wasn't the _only_ reason. She was plainly here of her own free will. She _wanted_ to be sitting here across from him.

He didn't understand it.

"My father was your alchemy teacher," Riza said at last, breaking gaze with him in a way that still left him feeling as if she was trying to hide something. "He was the world's first flame alchemist. You were the second."

Roy hesitated, frowning. Was that… really it? "My alchemy teacher?" he asked uncertainly. It would explain how he knew Riza better than the others, but…

Riza nodded. "Yes, sir. You studied with him since we were both quite young, so if you remember something more about me, that's probably why…" She stopped for a moment, seeming uncomfortable for the first time; somehow, once again, Roy found it almost impossible to meet her gaze. "What exactly _do_ you remember about me, sir?"

"…I'm not sure."

"Sir…"

Roy turned his head even further away, insides squirming uncomfortably.

But this made sense though, he thought desperately, fighting to convince himself. Her father was his flame alchemy teacher, and he _did_ remember discovering this array and how to use it with her. It was dangerous, obviously. Maybe there'd just been an accident, when he was learning to use it? Which was still horrible and inexcusable and _wrong,_ and he could never apologize enough for it but it-

It was at least _something._

It was better than him hurting her on purpose.

Roy clenched his fist again, forcing himself to glance back over at this woman that was the only one he could remember. The one who'd haunted him ever since he'd woken up in that hospital. The one who he _knew_ more than anybody else- and yet who'd barely said two words to him since he'd fought his way back home.

As much as he'd like for the truth to be something so simple, so _easy,_ he knew that that was not the case.

There was something more here.

And Roy couldn't just allow it to stay silent any longer.

"I know that I burned you."

Riza stiffened across from him, her eyes widening almost imperceptibly, but Roy knew he couldn't let himself stop here. "I know that you're not here to hurt me, that you're only here to help- but I remember that much."

"Sir, it's not what you think-"

"No, it _is._ I understand that's the more to this than how it seems, and that you're keeping these things from me because you think it's for the best- but it's _not._ I did those things, I don't hear you denying it; I need you to at least explain _why._ How you could possibly have excused or forgiven or- or _whatever_ it is you did so that you could be sitting across from me now. I need to know what I did, what I'm responsible for! You can't protect me forever from it, and being like this- well, If I could live with knowing them before I can certainly live with them now!"

Riza hesitated again, starting to move to her feet with her gaze averted and face pale. "I think the lieutenant colonel would rather-"

Roy grabbed her wrist, forcing her back the moment she took a step away. "I don't care what Hughes would _rather._ You're keeping things from me- and Fullmetal, too! We want to know the truth, and that's our right! We've had things kept from us for _months;_ I don't care whether or not you think it's for our own good- that's our right to decide, not yours! You need to tell us who we really are!"

Because that was the damn crux of the matter, wasn't it? He understood he was safe here, and Ed was, too, and that Hughes, Riza, and everyone else were simply trying to help- but he was tired of being coddled and even more tired of being controlled.

He needed to know who he was, the good _and_ the bad. He couldn't have the truths be kept from him any more, no matter the reason for it.

If he really was the monster his memories told him he was, he hardly deserved the comforting lies they were trying to give him, anyway.

And- Riza, he could see, had finally been shaken.

She stopped in her tracks even though Roy was sure she could easily tear out of his grip if she wanted to; could've just thrown his weakened, bandaged hand off and strode off. She held very still, turned away and tense, her face unreadable but no longer expressionless; so stiff that, for just a moment, Roy expected her to just pull away, sit back down, and go silent again.

Then, however, she faced him.

"It's true, sir," she said simply, looking him right in the eye. "You did burn me."

His heart lurched again, clenching desperately in his chest.

This time, instead of pulling away, Riza moved to sit next to him, arm still in his hand, and she was sitting so close he couldn't possibly believe she hated him or wanted him gone. She actually looked at him like he wanted to understand, the same way he remembered Maes first looking at him… and the way he'd wanted to be looked at this whole time.

His heart clenched again, this time with something he didn't quite understand, and all his protests died.

"It's a complicated story, and I'm not just telling you that to protect you. But… but, the short of it is, sir, my father gave _me_ the secret to flame alchemy- he drew it on my skin. You learned it from _me,_ not my father." She paused for a moment, letting it sink in. "But flame alchemy is a dangerous thing to have, and if the wrong person learned it from me… there would be no limit on the damage they could do to the world. I didn't want that responsibility- I didn't even want the ability to give that knowledge to anyone ever again. So… I asked you you to burn the knowledge off of me, Roy." She met his eyes, leaning forward when he tried to move back, not a hint of doubt or indecision on her calm face even as his blood went cold. "And you respected me enough to do so."

 _I…_

 _I what?_

"You're- you're saying I-" Roy swallowed hard, a knot of uncertainty, disbelief, and misery forming in his throat. "You're saying you _asked for me_ to hurt you?"

Riza nodded steadily, not breaking his gaze even once. "You didn't want to. But you took me seriously, and respected my decision, and did this for me when no one else would. We've… both made mistakes in our lives, sir, many of them- but this is not one of them." She broke off for a moment, turning her arm over to gently touch his. "It meant a great deal to me that you would do such a difficult, horrible thing for my sake."

Roy looked away, swallowing uncertainty again as his stomach knotted itself and and disbelief swam through his mind. Riza had _asked_ him to hurt her? And- all he'd done was follow through?

It was still horrible. In fact, he could still barely stand to remember what he'd done and it was even harder to accept that he'd truly hurt somebody this badly, whether she'd asked for it or not, but- but Riza was sitting right here, telling him it was all right, that she'd _wanted_ this…

Roy raised his now cold, clammy hand, wiping at his face with a weak and nervous laugh. "I-" he stammered, shaking his head. "I never…"

Riza smiled quietly at him, removing her hand from his arm. "To be fair, sir, you had a lot of trouble accepting this even when nothing was wrong with you. This is partially my fault, anyway… we should've seen this coming and tried to talk to you before now. But-" She bit her lip for a moment, regret clouding her face, but just as soon as Roy had focused on it, it was gone, and she looked back up at him with only certainty in her eyes. "Well, that doesn't matter now. What's important is that you know the truth. You did burn me, sir- but you didn't do anything wrong."

Roy shook his head weakly, more in disbelief than denial. He couldn't believe this. All this time- and _this_ was the truth? It wasn't his fault? It wasn't something for him to feel guilty about?

Riza had just sad there and told them he'd made mistakes, of course, said that both of them had- and _god_ , he knew that was true. He still remembered using his array to burn a nation down. He still remembered using it and slaughtering his guards. He'd made _mistakes-_ if such horrible things could even be called something so innocuous- but…

This wasn't one of them?

Roy wiped at his face shakily again, shaking his head and trying to regain control of himself. "I- oh," he laughed weakly, finding himself arranging his features into another uncertain smile. "I never realized…"

"If you're going to guilt about something, sir, then at least ask us to make sure it's worth it," Riza chided gently, and with more than a hint of teasing, and Roy, once again, found himself unable to help a small smile.

"What about Fullmetal, then?" he asked finally, leaning back as the tension and shock and guilt left him all in one great breath. "Are you going to tell me that's what happened with him, as well?"

"…What do you mean?"

"His limbs," Roy said, shrugging weakly, still overwhelmed. "I- I know I had _something_ to do with what happened to him- are you going to tell me I shouldn't feel guilty about that, either? That it was an accident, or he asked me to, or…?"

Riza blinked up at him for several moments. She tilted her head a little, seeming utterly lost, then sat back as if confused. "Edward's limbs? You mean his arm and his leg, sir?" When he nodded slightly she continued to simply stare at him, eyes wide and with none of the reluctance or unhappiness of before- she just looked _lost._

And then, Roy learned why.

"Sir," she stated, "Edward lost his limbs before you two even met."

"…What?"

"He lost his limbs before you ever met," she said again, and her voice was so steady and sure it would've taken a madman to call her a liar. "I was with you, sir… though we may have done many things wrong in our lives, this just- isn't one of them, Colonel."

Roy stared blankly again.

They'd _what?_

"A-are… are you _sure?"_ he finally asked, disbelief and shock weighing heavily on his heart. That just couldn't be true… not after he'd spend so _long_ convinced otherwise…

But Riza actually laughed, for perhaps the very first time that he could remember, smiling softly and leveling him with such a look of incredulity it almost made him flush. "Quite sure, sir; I was with you the first time we met Edward and Alphonse. We met them perhaps a day after Edward lost his limbs. Neither of us had anything at all to do with it."

"But I- I remembered-" Roy stopped, eyes widening, a cold thrill going down his spine as he heard the words again, his heart skipping a beat. He remembered… he'd been so _sure,_ though… just like with Riza, he'd been so sure it was his fault… "I thought I'd…"

He'd really, honestly thought he'd hurt them both.

And now she was sitting here, telling him that he just hadn't?

It just wasn't possible. It was too unbelievable to be true. He could not have been so convinced of this all for so long for _nothing._

"Colonel," Riza started, voice low but a genuine smile soft in her words, "you may have been convinced you were at fault, I'm not sure why, but… you really should trust us on this one." Her smile broadened a little bit more, taking on a gently teasing lilt, and she tilted her head a little to look him back in the eye. "Perhaps Hughes never got around to mentioning it, sir, but you _do_ have a bit of a guilt complex. You've got nothing to apologize to me or Edward for- no matter how guilty you might feel. Because, honestly, sir? You'd probably blame yourself for an earthquake if you could manage the mental gymnastics of it."

Roy blinked again, startled, and looked back down at her. Riza Hawkeye, the lieutenant who'd been haunting him and, quite honestly, terrifying him, the person he'd blamed himself for hurting for so _long_ \- Riza Hawkeye, who was just sitting calmly next to him, and smiling at him.

Well. Smirking.

Roy stared down at her for one beat more.

Then- and perhaps it was the lack of sleep, perhaps it was the lingering pain and stress, perhaps it was just everything that had gone wrong coupled on the stress of these things _finally_ going right- then, Roy burst out laughing.

For the first time in months without so much as a care in the world, Roy flung his arm around Riza's shoulders, pulling her close to his side and hugging her even tighter when the motion garnered a high-pitched, surprised yelp. He didn't know what to say at all, couldn't come close to finding the right words, but he was so relieved it was overwhelming- but he knew his gratitude got through when Riza finally relaxed, and stiffly, awkwardly, hugged him back.


	24. Chapter 24

Thank you all so much for reviewing! Aghhh, I'm sorry this is... almost a week late, by this point... I don't know, this chapter just _really did not_ want to be written. I'm not sure what it was about it, but it just refused to happen and even when I finally finished, I wasn't too happy with it. Meh. :/ Regardless, there's one more chapter at Madame Christmas' place, which I'll post whenever I finish (soon, hopefully), then I'll probably go on a very brief hiatus, just to actually everything else. All that's left is the final battle, then the resolution, so there's really not much left, but I'd just rather have it all done so I don't run into problems like this again. Anyway, I'll have a more clearer statement on that next chapter. See you then!

* * *

Ed was… suspicious.

That was the best word for it.

Suspicious.

Sure, he was thrilled, too. Mostly he was _completely and totally_ fucking thrilled. His Al was here, and _real,_ and that was at once absolutely everything he had ever wanted, and that moment was the happiest he could _ever_ remember being. It was the first time he'd been able to relax without Roy being in the room; hell, he didn't even know where Roy had gotten off to- just, one moment, the bastard was there, and the next he wasn't, but it didn't matter at all, because _Al was there._

But Ed wasn't an idiot.

And as fucking relieved, and put at ease, and finally calm, and _happy_ as he was to have his brother back-

He knew something was wrong.

Really, not just _something-_ it was a giant fucking pink elephant in the corner of the room that nobody was talking about:

Why was his brother an empty suit of armor?

Ed hadn't believed it at first, trying to guess that it was just way too big for him- for, um, some reason- but with as many times as Al had hugged him and all the different ways Al had stayed sitting next to him, it was as obvious as it was undeniable. There was not a human being anywhere in that armor.

Which raised the first question as to how on earth it was walking around and talking- and the second, far more important question, as to why was that his _brother?_

No one else seemed concerned. Why was he the only one concerned by this? Why was he the only one who took a second glance at what appeared to be a fucking possessed suit of armor?

As relieved as he was to finally be able to see him, this was something that couldn't wait.

Ed didn't dare ask anything at first, wanting to wait until they got privacy. Luckily, that didn't seem to be very hard to come by. Roy had left almost immediately, leaving only a few soldiers and women behind, but they hadn't bothered him or Al, and it hadn't taken long for them to leave, either- apparently, everyone wanted him and Al to have some privacy.

Ed was glad for it. Sitting there alone on a couch, Al's massive arm draped so gently around him it was as if he was made of silk instead of steel, his brother as big and safe as Roy was warm-

Even with all the worries and fears still weighing on his mind, this moment was all he had ever wished for.

"How did you even get here so fast?" he asked after a long period of silence, curled and blissfully happy on the plush, scarlet cushion. Al was unnaturally still next to him, his huge hand so gently on his arm it was almost heartbreaking. "All the others said… they told me it wouldn't be until tonight…"

Al laughed nervously, voice still eerily metallic but so comforting and _familiar_ he just didn't care. "Oh- y-yeah, well… okay, you've gotta keep it a secret from Lieutenant Colonel Hughes. It wasn't… er… legal. Or safe."

Ed perked up at that, lifting his head up just enough to stare at his little, big brother. "Really?" he pressed, starting to grin.

Al nodded, and Ed swore he saw that immovable, metal face start to smile. "It's not my fault, though! Really! I was down south, stuck in some rural little village, the trains kept getting rerouted- I got sick of waiting, I wanted to _see you,_ Brother, and people kept telling me it was gonna take longer and longer-" He stopped, fidgeting awkwardly again. "So I just… left. …On my own."

"…What do you mean?"

Al shrunk down a little as if embarrassed, but his huge hand never left his arm. "I just walked out of the village. Or… ran out. My train got rescheduled _again_ last night, they canceled it, they said I'd have to wait until tomorrow so I- I just- left, Brother. I just ran out of the village." He shrugged sheepishly, smiling even brighter now. "Some time last night, actually."

Ed blinked.

"I- I know I never did this with you, Brother, or- well, I g-guess you don't remember, but… well, I can run pretty fast. Really, really fast, actually. And I never get tired, so I can run really, really fast for a really, really long time." His brother seemed to almost wilt for a moment, softening under his scrutiny and turning his helmet away. "I just followed the train tracks towards Central. Lieutenant Colonel Hughes probably wouldn't be very pleased, he'd say it wasn't safe, but- but it wasn't as if anything could happen to me! It _was_ safe, it's not as if any trains are coming into the city anyway anymore, nothing could happen- and I had to get here! I had to see you, Brother!"

Ed sank shakily back into the cushions, now just staring up at his brother in disbelief. He'd… what? Al had just- _walked here?_ "H-how far was it…?" he asked, starting to push himself up just a little more.

"Oh, not far! I left yesterday afternoon, and- and I spent a while trying to get into the city and then looking for this place! I haven't been traveling the whole time, really!" Al paused again, tugging gently on the long, white plume coming from his helmet. "I think it was about two hundred miles, maybe…"

"T-two hundred _what?!"_ he spluttered frantically.

"It wasn't that bad, though, honest…" Al went on, not even seeming to have heard his protest as he continued to try and reassure him, as if this wasn't crazy and ridiculous and impossible and _insane._ "Although, please don't tell Mr. Hughes. See, no one's really allowed into Central right now- he'd worked it out so I could come on that train, but then I _didn't,_ so I had to find another way in… I don't think it was, um, legal, but- I kinda alchemized a tunnel? I mean, I got rid of it right after! It's not there anymore, not one could follow me! I just… don't think Mr. Hughes would be pleased…"

"I-" Ed thought of Roy's overprotective friend, the one who always seemed to be nagging him to rest or trying to cheer Roy up at the slightest sign of unhappiness, and found himself agreeing. No, Hughes probably wouldn't be happy to hear about Al's many hour long adventure to get to the city this early. "That's-" God, Al had really gone to all this effort? And for _him?_

"But _why?_ How the hell-" He tried to get himself to relax, rubbing one shaky hand at his cold face, but it was a failed effort from the very start. It was okay; Al was here now, finally, at last, and obviously safe, too, everything was okay- even if it still didn't make much sense. "You said the train was still coming in tomorrow, right? Why would you- what was the… you didn't have to do any of this."

"Yes, I _did."_

"But it was just one more day, I-"

"I don't care if it was an extra _hour;_ that was too long, Brother! Not when you've already been missing for so long! Mr. Hughes kept scaring me over the phone, he was trying not to but I _knew_ it was bad, and I've missed you so much, I've been looking _everywhere_ for you- I wasn't going to let a stupid train schedule keep stopping me when there was another way! Mr. Hughes told me to just wait, but I- I _couldn't_ anymore! I had to see you, so I did! And it was a _good decision,_ Brother, and I'm glad I did it, so don't go on tattling to the lieutenant colonel like it'll change my mind."

Ed stared blankly up at him.

He blinked several times, stunned.

His brother… his _little_ brother, if everything was to be believed, his fourteen year old brother…

This was him. Right here.

His little brother had done all these things, and come all this way… just to see him.

His heart swelled into an uncomfortable lump in his throat, and for a moment, he was so stricken he couldn't even breathe.

Then, he leaned up into Al's big hand, no matter how cold or unnatural or just _inhuman_ it felt, and for the first time since Roy actually found himself taking comfort from another person.

There were so many things that he wanted to say, a bewilderment that Al had missed him, an apology for not being able to ever remember anything, and then another one for everything Al seemed to have gone through- but he just seemed so _happy_ to be here Ed couldn't find it in him to say all the things he probably should.

Because he was finally happy too, damn it.

"…Thanks for coming," he said at last, and curled up even closer to his brother.

Al sat even closer to him then, seeming careful with the way he held him with his hard, cold, probably uncomfortable body so close to his. Ed didn't know if it was long years of practice or what, but for a giant suit of armor, his hugs really weren't half bad.

"Don't worry," Al told him after several moments, touching his shoulder. "They told me on the phone they want me to do some research, to figure out how we can finally help you, but- but I'm not leaving, okay? I'll just get a few books from the library and come back here right away, so we can work on them _together._ That's how we're supposed to do it. I don't care what the military wants; I'm not leaving again."

Ed winced at those words, tearing his eyes away to stare back down at his hand again. He curled up a little tighter, his face suddenly warming, and it was abruptly hard to find the words out of the lump in his throat. "…I, um… can't help, though. I…" He thought of Roy, and how hard the older alchemist had been working with his gloves- and how little fruits his efforts had ever shown. "I don't remember anything, so I… I won't really be able to… to help you." He bit his lip harder, trying to force himself to look away. "If it'd be faster, then you… you should just work at the library- you don't need to look after me, I'll be-"

"No. I'm not _looking after you,_ Brother; don't say that. I'm here because I want to be, because I _missed you-_ not just so I can take care of you! Don't bother trying to tell me not to; we work together, that's how it always is and how it always will be. We'll figure this out together, I promise- we'll figure this out, and get both you and the colonel back to how you should be. And even if I could do it a little bit faster at the library, I don't care. I want to be here with you and that's the end of it!" Al's hand tightened over his arm, holding him even closer like a protective bodyguard, like it'd take all of Roy's team and then some to even manage to pull him away- and Ed, looking up at his brother, believed it.

Al wasn't going anywhere. He was here for him, with him, because he wanted to be.

Ed ducked his head, trying not to let anyone else see the huge smile fighting its way onto his face, and for several moments, just sat there and beamed, because he was too happy to do anything else.

 _I knew I had a family. I knew had my Al. I knew it, fucking Justin, I knew it, I knew it, I KNEW IT!_

And for several moments, that was all it was- just that precious, content, blissful silence.

Then, however, Al moved to break it.

"…No one's told you about me, have they?"

Ed frowned a little, still too content to be worried as he shifted to get a better look at him. "What do you mean? That you're my brother? I already- they didn't have to tell me! I remembered your name without them!" He smiled a little more, hoping to reassure or convince him, because that had to mean _something,_ right? Out of everybody in the world, Al's name was the only one he'd remembered. That was big. That was _important. Al_ was important to _him._

Al, however, did not seem very reassured.

"No, Brother," he said quietly after a dead, thick, uncomfortable silence. "I mean why I'm like this." He gestured one cold armor glove up and down himself, then looked down to Ed and did it again, those strangely inhuman yet familiar eyes watching him carefully with all the sorrow in the world. "Why we're _both_ like this… why you're missing your arm and leg, and why I'm in this suit of armor."

Ed opened his mouth, already set on trying to reassure his brother, because one thing he was sure of was that he had scared him _enough_ over these past few months, the words were already half out of him-

And then, he stopped.

Oh.

There it was. What he'd been suspicious about- just… right out in the open.

Ed had never imagined it'd come out as easily as this. But here it was.

He opened and shut his mouth uselessly again, heart sinking, and shook his head.

He'd been suspicious about it, and he'd wanted to know- had even been planning out how he was going to ask it, but now- now Al had just… brought it up all by himself. He hadn't even tried to hide it from him or pretend it wasn't a big deal.

This was both easier than expected, and superbly unnerving.

"…No," he answered at last, swallowing hard. "No one… really has."

 _No one_ had, not once- and he couldn't lie and say that strange silence, too, hadn't been oddly frightening and worrisome. All of Roy's family, all of Roy's military friends, they'd _all_ told him they didn't know the full story, that it was best if they didn't try to explain it to him when they didn't understand it all- and the thing was, Ed hadn't gotten the feeling that they were lying. He would've been more upset if he had… but it had felt like everyone here honestly wanted to help him- they just didn't know what to say.

Al, however, did.

His brother sighed, not breaking contact, not even seeming to hesitate, just moving a little bit closer and touching his hand to Ed's again. "I thought so," he said, glancing surreptitiously around the still empty room.

There was an awkward, very unsettling pause.

"Lieutenant Colonel Hughes said I probably shouldn't talk to you about this," Al went on at last. "That if I try to explain everything now, it'll just upset you, and it'll be easier if we just wait until we've fixed your memories- and he _is_ right, in a way. I understand where he's coming from, and if he wants to keep things from the Colonel, I won't stop him… it'd be easier if we _could_ wait. But I don't want to do that. I don't want to lie to you, and- I'm guessing that's not even an option at this point, anyway." Al hesitated again, averting his bright red, firelike eyes. "I can tell just by the way you've been looking at me you're thinking about it. That you're worried about it."

"Well, I- I'm not exactly-" Ed stopped, swallowing hard, then shuddered. There wasn't any point in denying it, was there? It was the _truth,_ and- and he wanted to know. He had to. Even as unsettling and downright scary as it was sounded, it was his own past, his own family, everything he'd been looking for for so long-

He had to do this.

He had to hear it.

"I know you're not stupid," Al sighed. "You've probably already figured some of it out for yourself and if we don't say anything, you'll just worry and make everything so much worse in your head and- and you deserve to know. So I'll tell you. But-" Al shifted around, meeting his eyes again and holding his shoulder tighter, suddenly stern, somehow, stern in a way that didn't make any sense at all coming from a cold suit of armor but that Ed believed all the same. "But you have to promise to let me explain it all and actually _listen_ to me, Brother. Don't draw your own wild conclusions- that's the sort of thing you like to do but that won't help now, it'll just make everything worse! You have to actually let me explain, okay? I _promise_ that things aren't as bad as they may sound at first."

Ed swallowed hard, staring up at his brother. It took him a moment or two, but, finally, he nodded.

Absolutely none of this sounded good. None of this sounded good in any way whatsoever. Hell, this was the most anxious he'd been all _week._ His stomach suddenly squirmed like he'd eaten a basket of worms and he scooted backwards an inch, taking in a shaky, shuddering breath that totally failed at calming him down.

This did not sound good. This did not sound good. Oh, this _really_ did not fucking sound good at all.

But it was too fucking late to take any of this back any more. He had to _know._

And Al could tell him.

"Our mom died," Al said haltingly, hand resting gently on his. "When we were both pretty young. Our dad had left a long time before that, so it had been just us three, she was all we _had,_ and when she died… we only had each other. We were both little kids, and probably too smart for our own good, and no one was really looking after us who could've stopped us- so… so we got the idea to play god. You suggested we could try and bring Mom back, and… I agreed, Brother." Al stopped for a moment, his small, metallic voice wavering. "That's against the alchemy rules. You're not supposed to do that. But we _both_ knew that, and we both decided to do it anyway. You didn't force or trick me. I had the same knowledge as you, we _both_ knew it was a bad idea- you suggested it, and I chose to follow you."

Against the rules…?

Ed sat frozen on the couch, swallowing hard, and said absolutely nothing.

 _Against the rules…_

 _Truth._

… _He'd said I'd seen him before…_

… _He said he was there to punish people who broke the rules…_

Ed held very still, still quiet, and refused to let himself look at Al again.

That thing said he was there to punish people who broke the rules. To take _tolls_ from them.

And Al had just said, they'd broken the rules.

Shuddering, Ed looked down, first to his own missing limbs, then over at Al's conspicuously totally missing body.

"These were our tolls, weren't they."

It wasn't a question- even when Al twitched and jumped like it was one.

"W-what was-"

"My limbs, and your body. That was it. That was our toll for breaking the rules."

Al stared down at him, obviously shocked he'd put it together so quickly. "I- w-well-" he stammered, inching closer. "…yes. How'd- how'd you know that, Brother…?"

"…Just a lucky guess," he murmured, looking away.

So this was it. The answer to _everything._

This was why he was who he was. This was why his brother was this oddly inhuman but painfully human creature all at the same time, sitting next to him as cold as ice but as real as Roy. This was who he was, and who Al was. This was why he'd never remembered anybody else but Al- because he _had_ nobody else.

This was _everything._

"…We did all this for our mom?" he asked uncomfortably, just barely looking at his brother out of the corner of his eye. "To bring her back?"

"We… I don't know." Al sighed, lowering his head to stare miserably down to his lap. "We did it because were scared, and young, and hurt, and- and just couldn't accept we'd have to keep going without her. She was all we had, and when she died, we… we got scared. We didn't try to look around and see all that we still had, all the friends and support we had now- we just let out lives stop and told ourselves we were doing it for her. But, I… I think now, Brother, we were doing it for ourselves."

Ed curled up a little tighter, shuddering into the couch. He suddenly missed Roy again, not wanting Al to go but wanting _both of them_ there instead, but it was too want that, and instead all there was, was this.

"I…" he broke off, flinching, then tried again, struggling to keep his voice steady. "I'm…"

"I know, Brother," Al said softly, running his hand down his arm again. "I know." He moved a little bit closer, those gentle, soulfire eyes softening with concern. "We're trying to fix each other- that's what we've been trying for a long time. And we _will._ We're going to get both our bodies back- and we're going to get your memories back, too. Together, Brother. I promise."

And to that, Ed once again just found himself with nothing to say.

The lump was still growing in his throat, his heart aching in his chest, any and all possible words completely lost- but Al, just like Roy, was finally there, promising him that everything would be okay…

And for the very first time, Ed believed him.

His brother, _his_ Al, was here.

He leaned against that cold, metal arm, shutting his eyes with a shuddering sigh, and let himself believe that everything could be all right again.

* * *

Those few days after Al's arrival, _finally,_ were the closest to normal that Maes and everyone else had spent so long fighting for.

Roy was clearly most comfortable with Maes, but softened up quickly to anyone wearing the uniform and was plainly trying his hardest to work with them instead of against them. Ed, on the other hand, finally relaxed now that his brother was there, and was at last tying to work with them as well. Sure, it was obvious he wasn't really _comfortable_ with anyone except Al, and Maes could never tell how much the two alchemists really trusted them- but they were both trying, and that was all he could ask for.

It was an all but unspoken agreement that until Roy and Ed were healed more, they would be kept safe here at Madame Christmas's, and that was the end of it. Christmas and Roy's staff had been keeping a careful eye out, examining their recovery, and they were tentatively hoping to be able to meet with the military this time next week. As much as Maes wanted to keep them safe and isolated from the military- considering what they now suspected about the budding civil war, he could not, in good conscience, keep them protected here much longer.

But they were recovering well. Both had gone from almost bedridden to being strong enough to move around and explore, seeming almost disturbingly good at tolerating the pain from their numerous injuries. But they were healing, both of them. Fevers were lower, sleep was increasingly restful, appetites were back- the first time Ed had tentatively asked for seconds, Maes was reasonably sure he'd almost witnessed a suit of armor burst into tears.

Physically, both alchemists were improving so much that Maes almost wanted to sing.

Physically.

Only physically.

Maes was… trying not to think about anything else, really.

Because as glad as he was that they were getting better, as happy as he felt and as much as he smiled to look at them and see them actually, finally, _improving,_ feeling safe and possibly even happy for the first time since that goddamn hospital had kidnapped him-

Sometimes it all felt like one big lie that was only true on the surface, because the moment Maes looked deeper, they _weren't._

They still stuck to each other like glue; for all they'd fought like cats and dogs before, now it took a near miracle just to get for them to consent to being separated at all. They flinched at any sudden noise or surprise; just a simple _car backfiring outside_ having been enough to startle them both so badly it had taken an hour for them to stop shaking.

Ed couldn't be left alone.

Literally, actually.

They simply could not leave Ed in a room alone, no matter for what purpose or for how long. They'd tried to, at first, not on purpose but just because it was pretty difficult to _always_ have someone in the same room as he was- but Ed's reactions had proved it couldn't be done.

Every single time, he'd bolted towards the door to follow them out so fast Maes wouldn't have been surprised if it had torn his stitches.

Every single time, he'd refused to answer when asked what was wrong… but his face would be white as a sheet, and he wouldn't even start to calm down until he was back with Roy or Al. He couldn't do it. He just could not- he would not even _try_. He wouldn't talk about it, he wouldn't explain why, he wouldn't even _look at them,_ he'd just stick close to his brother or the colonel pale and trembling and scared-

It had been six days, now, since they'd been saved; three since Al had gotten here- and Ed still couldn't stand to be left alone in a room for even a minute. Maes hadn't dared to interrogate him on it, but honestly, just knowing what he did, about what Ed had been through?

He was pretty sure he could guess why.

It made his blood run cold and his jaw clench with dark anger- but he could guess why.

Roy, for his part, hadn't taken Maes' jacket off even once. He even _slept_ with the damn thing.

It would've been touching, if it hadn't made his chest clench to even think about how vulnerable or hurt his best friend had to be to be acting this way in the first place.

Neither of the alchemists were sleeping well.

Neither of the alchemists had so much as tolerated it when they'd tried to have a private doctor come here to check them out. Which, well, Maes had seen coming- but the all but screaming fits and outright threats of murder had been frightening, even to him.

He and Al, and he and Al only, were the only ones who'd been able to change the bandages or so much as check their temperatures.

In short?

Ed and Roy were doing better than they had been before.

That didn't mean, however, that they were okay.

Not even close.

Maes sighed deeply as he parked his car, turning off the engine as he just rested his head against the wheel for a moment and breathed. Day four, then. Day four of running a protection detail on two alchemists who wanted next to nothing to do with them, who were so mistreated and hurt they were all one wrong move away from provoking their permanent distrust- and who still didn't remember Maes, or Riza, or anybody else.

He really wished things would start to get better here. He really, really did.

He wasn't sure how much suffering Ed and Roy could take, at this point.

Maes sighed again, pocketing his keys and turning down the sidewalk towards the bar. Alphonse, he already knew, wouldn't be there. He'd been spending more and more time at the library, desperately researching everything he could get his hands on about how he might be able to help his brother. It had been a nightmare to even get him to go the library at first; despite all of Al's and Maes' attempts, not even State Alchemists were allowed to check out books and bring them home- there was just no choice but for Al to have to leave Ed behind as he frantically poured through all of Central's resources for an answer. There was no way Ed was well enough to go with him, not even just to lie down on the floor of a research room while Al worked. And even once Al had reluctantly accepted being separated from his brother, it had still been a fucking nightmare- they'd been trying to balance it, have Al only be gone when Ed was asleep, but it was _hard,_ and even harder for Al… the first time he'd had to stand up and leave his brother behind, even to help him, it had been almost heartbreaking.

It wasn't getting any easier, either… but Al was just the only one who could do it.

The sooner he found the answer to fixing their memories, the better for _everyone._ It had to be done, and that was that.

No matter how hard it was for them all.

At last, stretching tiredly, Maes made it to the bar. He could almost feel Breda watching him, concealed on a rooftop across the street; the back of his neck prickled but he just pushed ahead anyway, refusing to turn back as he prepared himself to once again face his traumatized best friend, and even more traumatized subordinate.

Except, the moment Maes stepped into Madame Christmas' bar- it was very apparent that something was wrong.

The atmosphere was just... off. Stifled, somehow, the usually laidback bar suddenly stiff and quiet from the moment he walked in the door. Some of Roy's sisters were congregated downstairs, eating breakfast with a noticeably subdued air, and while Roy's staff was also present, they seemed just as downtrodden as everyone else. Hawkeye in particular, he noted, stood by the stairs with her gaze fixed on the floor, arms folded tightly, looking as if that was the closest to hugging herself she could allow and almost radiating misery.

Maes came to a stop just a few steps into the bar, his own hopeful spirits falling just as fast as he'd gotten them up.

"What-" he started to ask.

And then, Madame Christmas turned around at the bar, and he could finally see her for the first time.

See her black eye.

"...happened..."

A small, little moan fell back in his throat, and his shoulders slumped as his hopes crashed even lower.

 _God. Roy._

It had to be Roy, after all.

There was no one else who could've done this.

Christmas held up a hand, waving off his worries before he could get any farther than that. "I'm fine," she told him sternly. "I've been hit harder by drunks every month I've been running this place."

But somehow, despite the easygoing words, she remained just as grave as the rest of them.

"What... what _happened?"_ he asked again, stumbling a little closer to stare. Granted, now that he had overcome his shock a little more, he could see she was right- Roy hadn't hit her very hard, but just that there was a bruise at all was the most chilling thing about this. "He didn't mean it, Madame-"

"I know he didn't," Christmas said dismissively, gaze flickering back to the base of the stairs again. "You can calm down, Hughes. I didn't punch him right back or lock him up in his old room... I know he didn't mean it. None of us have any clue what's going on in his head right now, after all." She went quiet for a moment, still watching Hawkeye over by the stairs. "All I did was offer him some ice for his hand. He came down here, his hand was burned, I could see that though he didn't say anything, so I got that," she nodded down the bar counter at a small, innocuous bowl of crushed ice, "and I put his hand in it. …That was all."

Maes waited uncertainly, expecting more to follow. Because- well, there had to be something, right? Something that had startled his best friend, or threatened him, or... _anything,_ else, really...

But Christmas did not continue on, and with a sinking sense of unease, he realized there really wasn't anything else.

"Edward's upstairs," Hawkeye spoke up calmly, her voice just as subdued as Maes suddenly felt. "He came down to see what happened, after the colonel ran back up there. Now he's standing guard near his room and won't let anybody through- he wouldn't even speak to us, except to tell us to leave them alone. We were hoping you might have a little bit more luck than we did... Edward _does_ seem to trust you, after all. Or... at least a little," she amended with a sad frown.

Maes winced, following her gaze back up the stairs as well. So that was where their two erstwhile, injured friends were. A small part of him wanted to be amused, sorrowfully fighting to smile at the situation, imaging Ed sitting up there like a little guard dog, growling at them all for Roy's sake- but the rest of him was too sobered by the reality of what she'd said. By the reality of what those two upstairs thought they were living.

Ed and Roy really didn't trust them. Roy expected to be hurt back, punished for what he'd done, and Ed really was sitting up there guarding him because he expected it from them, too. After all that they'd been through-

That was all they knew.

Ed really was sitting up there waiting, probably ready and waiting to hurl anyone who dared threaten their safety back down the stairs, and Roy was behind him- god, Maes didn't even want to _think_ of his best friend's state right now. But he'd seen enough, over these past few days, to have a pretty good guess at what he'd find.

If Ed even let him through. Maes knew there was a good chance even he wouldn't be trusted enough for that privilege.

"Has anyone called Al yet?" he asked, even as he already stepped towards the stairs, itching to go up towards his best friend, itching the same way he could tell Hawkeye was right now. "He'll be able to get through to Ed, if I can't. And something tells me that we really ought to be handling this sooner rather than later."

Havoc half-raised a hand. "My shift is up. I was about to head off to the library when you got here."

Maes nodded but found himself starting to climb the stairs before he'd even processed the words, driven by a mix of anxious trepidation and dread at what he'd find up there but at the same time, knowing it had to be done. If Ed and Roy were ever to trust them- well, this was how it'd happen, wasn't it? Some way for Maes and the others to _prove_ they were nothing like the monsters that had done this to them…

Even more than that, though.

Even more than that was just the fact that Maes couldn't stand to sit down here and do _nothing,_ while knowing his best friend was up there suffering. He knew there was a chance he might just make it worse, that Roy might not trust him enough- hell, that _Ed_ might not event trust him enough to let him through- he knew there was a terrible chance of him frightening the both of them even worse…

But Roy was his best friend.

He _had_ to try.

So Maes cautiously headed out onto the landing, looking down the hallway towards the room Roy had taken. He was not surprised at all to see Ed waiting outside of it- tense, angry, and frowning like a guard dog. He glared at Maes the moment he even tried to step closer, tensing even further, and Maes sighed.

"I'm not here to do anything but talk," he said quietly, raising his hands in mock surrender.

"Leave us alone," Ed snapped pressing himself even harder against the wall at his back.

The door to Roy's room, Maes noticed, was propped open just a bit- probably so Ed, even as he sat out here guarding the colonel from monsters that no longer had any way to ever get to them again, could manage to not feel alone.

He faltered again, something in his chest clenching.

"We're not angry," he tried again, only daring a single step more. "None of us are, not even Christmas. We just-"

"If you're not angry, then _shoo."_ Ed waved his hand at him, gesturing like he could somehow magically push Maes down the stairs from ten feet away. "Go back downstairs. We're fine." He waved his hand again when Maes still didn't move; if he'd had anything at all to throw Maes imagined it already would've been chucked at his head. _"Skedaddle."_

" _Ed-"_

"I said we're _fine!"_

Grimacing, Maes forced himself to remain in place even as he raised his hands in surrender again, trying to reassure Ed he didn't mean any harm. "If you're both fine, then why can't I talk to Roy?"

"Cause he doesn't want to talk to _you!"_

Maes sighed again, still keeping himself a careful distance back. He saw no reason to point out that, in Ed's current state, it'd be almost a laughing matter for Maes to just bodily pick him up and set him aside; the whole point of this was reassuring them both- not risk upsetting what tenuous scraps of trust they'd managed to earn back. "Listen, I know what you're both afraid of, but, Ed, we're just-"

"No, you _don't_ know! You don't have any fucking idea!" Ed hissed, rounding on him again like a caged, snarling dog. "You don't know what you're talking about so- so just screw off! Leave us alone!" He stopped for a moment, still tense and almost trembling, looking as if it would take a veritable force of nature to tear him away from that door, then just huffed and glared away, curling around himself stubbornly and refusing to so much as look at him. "Or at least don't force ice on us, you fucking idiots."

Maes, once again, hesitated. His insides squirmed guiltily again.

He was going to have to be very careful about how he went about this.

"That was a mistake," he said finally, hoping that acknowledging the wrongdoing would get Ed at least a little more open to listening to him. "It was a mistake, and, and she probably shouldn't have done that- but all she wanted to do was help him feel a little better, Ed. And all I want to do now is just talk to Roy and make sure he's okay." Christmas had only been trying to help, he was sure of that now- she hadn't been thinking how it might feel to _Roy._

Roy, who'd just spent the past however many weeks being tied down into ice baths and then waterboarded in everything but name.

Hell, he was pretty sure he'd have reacted just like Roy had.

It hurt to even think about what his best friend had gone through- and it hurt even worse to know that the people responsible were still out there.

He'd fucking drown _them._ See how they fucking liked it…

Maes took in a shuddering breath, struggling to keep calm and biting his lip, because getting angry now would help exactly no one. He was still hanging as far back as he could, worried that if he tried to approach it would startle Ed and just wanting to reassure him as much as he wanted to reassure Roy, but he couldn't help but start to get impatient now. He understood Ed's reluctance to let him by, and as touching as the protectiveness was, he just wanted Ed and Roy to believe in them as much as they believed in Ed and Roy.

It was worse than he'd realized, to care about someone, to trust them- but know they weren't able to care for and trust him back.

"How did his hand get burned, anyway?" he asked after several moments, trying to get Ed at least talking. " _Is_ he okay? Does anybody need to look at it?"

There was finally a shadow of reluctance in Ed's fierce eyes, the teen's tense shoulders relaxing in worry if not trust, his gaze averted. "…He's fine," he muttered, slumping a little. "He's fine. He was just practicing with his dumb alchemy gloves again, and I guess he finally got it to work. I don't know. But… but he's fine," he murmured sullenly, not believably at all and _finally_ wavering- and Maes at last had one weak point for him to key in on.

"Okay. He's fine," he conceded, knowing it would appease Ed. Since, from what he understood, it was just a burn on Roy's hand, it _was_ true, at least to some degree. Roy wasn't about to die from that. "But it probably hurts. And I know Roy's a stubborn asshole, he can take it, I'm sure- but if I can do something that'll help, I want to, Ed. I know you might not remember it, but.. he's my best friend. I wasn't able to help either of you through any of this… I just want to do what I can for you now that it's finally in my power to do so." He waited a moment, allowing his features to slide into a teasing smile when Ed finally turned his reluctant, worried eyes back on him. "Besides," he murmured, lowering his voice, "I'm sure the bastard's been eavesdropping on us this whole time. Don't give him the chance to rag on you for being overprotective after this- you _know_ he'll never stop."

Ed stiffened.

For several moments, Ed just sat there, frozen and staring at him, face expressionless- just long enough for Maes to start to fear that he'd done or said something wrong. He was already preparing to backpedal, apologize and take back whatever he'd unsettled him with- but then, miraculously… Ed's worried face softened into a smile.

"He is a bastard, isn't he?" he murmured, smirking a little.

Maes, completely lost by this point, allowed himself a weak nod and another teasing smile, hoping against hope that that was what Ed was looking for.

It only took a few more seconds of silent contemplation- just what it was he'd done right, Maes didn't know, just what it was Ed was considering, he _didn't know,_ but all it took was those few moments of indecision- and Maes finally got what he'd been looking for.

"Fine," the kid announced, pushing himself upright to stand against the wall, arm wrapped around himself and eyes narrowed suspiciously. "But I'll be out here, so if- if you fucking screw something up, I'll know! So… _yeah."_ He glared dangerously again, staring to move aside, then jerked back as if just remembering the person he was standing out here trying to protect in the first place. "Bastard! It's your friend, the Hughes guy, is it okay if-"

" _Yes!"_ Roy all but shouted, tense irritation and stress vibrating through the word. It was slightly muffled, like he was sitting far away from the door, but strong enough to reassure Maes that some sliver of his best friend was still in there, and a weak smile twitched into place. _"Yes,_ I can fucking hear both of you, and I'm not god damn amused; _yes,_ it's _fine!"_

Maes laughed softly, scratching at the back of his neck in amusement, and was lucky enough to see Ed smirk amusedly as well as the kid sat firmly across the hall. Rolling his eyes, Maes turned back to the propped open door, truly hopeful for the first time all day- and with that, headed inside.

As he'd predicted, the sight waiting for him wasn't very inspiring.

Roy was sitting there. Just, waiting in very corner of his bed, leaning so he was huddled against the wall like it was all he had for safety, arms wrapped around himself like a protective barrier.

Maes' jacket was off his shoulders and in his arms, now, hugged so tightly to himself he now realized just _why_ his voice had been muffled before, hands curled in it and the wool smudged with blood. Maes' heart clenched uncomfortably, touched and somehow guiltridden at the same time, and he swallowed hard.

He sent his gaze first straight to his hands, tearing it off his best friend's nervous eyes to search for the injury, but it was okay, he realized with a surge of relief- his glove was off, just a puddle of white cotton resting beside him, but all Maes could see was a few unbandaged red marks on his hand next to all of the gauze. It didn't even seem to be bleeding.

Painful, but not dangerous.

Roy was okay.

Maes sighed deeply, a long, shuddering breath that didn't come close to calming him down, and carefully edged himself a little bit closer into the room.

"…Hey," he finally said, sitting gently down on a chair across from Roy. He tried to give him the same teasing smile he'd given Ed, an effort that he was too shaken by the sight of his best friend to truly manage. "So. Rough morning, huh?"

Roy tensed wordlessly, his brow furrowing but mouth still hidden by the jacket, and Maes' own smile fell.

"I… look," he said after several moments, gently trying to segue into it. It'd be awkward, but- well it was a bit late to care about something like that. "I know you're scared, but-"

"I'm _not_ scared!"

"-but we _are_ your friends here, Roy. We understand you were just startled, we're not- no matter what happens, we're never going to hurt you or do _anything_ but try to protect you. I know you and Ed don't have much reason to trust us, but that's the truth." He paused, hoping to somehow drive the words and the truth behind them home. "Madame Christmas isn't even upset or hurt. She's only worried about you."

Roy sulked even more back against the wall, embracing the jacket tightly and his dark eyes looking anywhere but at Maes. "I'm not _scared,_ " he muttered again, hugging himself even more. He lowered his head, mouth quivering. "I know it's safe here. You don't have to tell me that again and again like I'm a child."

Maes gave him another small, tolerant smile, masking his own inner sorrow with what he hoped was a convincing grin. Yes, he believed that Roy knew they were his friends. He believed that Roy believed it was safe here.

But he didn't believe Roy felt that.

There was a reason, after all, Roy had all but locked himself in here after one violent, startled moment of lashing out, and was still sitting there even now, hugging himself and trembling, half-expectant his friends were about to _punish_ him for one violent, frightened moment of lashing out. And it was not because Roy felt safe here.

"I'm not even hurt," the colonel muttered darkly, refusing to look at him. "The alchemy just… got a way from me, a little. But it worked! It finally worked! I didn't even- I just went back downstairs to tell you. I'd forgotten I'd burned myself until she… s-she…"

"…She won't do it again, Roy. None of us will."

Roy glared darkly, curling even tighter into himself. "It doesn't matter."

It did matter. It very, very clearly mattered a hell of a lot to him- but pressing the point wasn't important now.

Roy just wanted things to feel normal now, to actually feel okay again- not coddled like he was fragile and about to shatter like glass.

After a few more moments of silence, his best friend just sighed, slumping more back against the wall, tightening his injured fingers in the jacket- Maes bit his tongue to stop himself from reprimanding him. "I'm… sorry. For all of this."

"And we forgive you for it."

But Roy shook his head, staring down with hard, narrowed eyes and clenching his fists so tightly Maes winced. "I keep hurting people. Over and over- and… a-and it's not even on _purpose_."

"Roy, it's okay. After what you've been through, that's- it's just understandable, Roy-"

"No. It's _not_ okay. It's not _understandable,_ Maes." Roy sunk back against the wall to pierce him with two anxious, stricken eyes, hands trembling all over again. "I struck my own mother, and for what? Trying to help me. That's all she was trying to do. And-"

"Roy, you-"

"And I did the same to your _wife!"_ he fired back, pale face blotching with red anger and fever. "I remember that, Maes- I remember her just trying to help Ed, and I- I hit her, too! I keep hurting people who are only trying to help! How on earth can _you_ even stand to be here, knowing what I did? And I-" he broke off, eyes flickering towards the still propped open door. His face twisted.

"I even hurt Fullmetal," he muttered fiercely, his voice low, almost inaudible now. "I hurt _everyone."_

Maes stopped, too, biting his lip even as his heart clenched and his words caught in his throat. He glanced to the open door after Roy, well aware his friend didn't want to be overheard and not about to jeopardize that, but at the same time- "Roy, no," he started, just as quiet. He moved closer, not even daring to think about touching him just yet but settling himself on the bed as well. "Remember, Ed told you it wasn't your f-"

"Not _that._ I'm not talking about _that."_ Roy let out a sharp exhale of frustration and leaned back even further against the wall, wiping at his tired face with one hand while the other continued to clutch the jacket to him like nothing else. "It was early on. Fullmetal told me to just shut up, but I wouldn't listen to him and I kept asking questions- and they punished him for it. It was my fault." He shook his head bitterly, glaring other at the door as if it was responsible. "…I just seem to be really damn good at hurting people, even when it's not on purpose."

Maes swallowed hard, sitting very still now. He glanced between his friend and the door, wondering if perhaps this had been a mistake, and he shouldn't have tried to intrude after all. He wasn't entirely sure what this was, what had happened- but he _did_ know Roy, and he knew this new guilt was something that had to have been bothering him for a while… it was just this new incident that had brought it to the surface. Frowning, Maes pushed him just a little bit closer, trying and failing to meet Roy's eyes.

"I'm guessing Ed's already told you to stop guilting about this- whatever it was. Right?"

Roy grunted sullenly, eyes still averted, but didn't say anything.

"And I'm guessing everyone here has already tried to tell you they're not angry with you for going after Christmas."

"Leave it alone," Roy all but sulked, glaring down into his jacket.

"And… about my wife, Roy." Maes swallowed hard again, but this time refused to look away. "I won't lie. When you- hurt her. …I was ready to fucking kill you."

Roy flinched again. His fists tightened into the jacket, but, admirably or not, he did not move away or even try to defend himself, not even when his pale jaw clenched and he looked, just for a second, like he was bracing for a blow.

" _But_ , my wife talked me down. She pulled me back, and told me she was fine, and that it wasn't your fault, and if I was going to rage off on her behalf I'd better do it against someone who at least deserved it." He waited until Roy tentatively relaxed, just a little, to send him another teasing smile. "Gracia really is my better half, you know- she was right. You didn't hurt her, Roy, you were protecting Ed. Even if he didn't need protection then- I can at least understand that." He shrugged a little, grin softening as he moved just a small bit closer. "If it helps, you usually tend to fight your battles with words, anyway. You just happen to be annoyingly good at using your fists as well."

For several moments, Roy didn't answer him, dark eyes still averted and shoulders hunched. When his gaze finally moved back over to him, it was less hesitant than before, and his hold on the jacket had at last stopped being so tight Maes was worried he'd start bleeding all over again. "…Oh," he said at last, sinking back against the wall- and only then, did Maes allow himself to smirk.

"Don't take this to mean I'm not going to get back at you, of course. Because I will. Trust me- you're not getting out of this without a punch to the face, you asshole. Gracia only convinced me to wait until you're strong enough to take it. Once you remember who we are… you'd better start running."

Maes made sure his teasing smile never once left throughout it all, though- even though he certainly wasn't kidding- he made sure Roy understood this didn't mean anything, that this had no bearing on their friendship and it certainly wasn't him trying to _punish_ Roy for doing anything wrong. It was a risk, but a risk he figured it was important that he take- and he was rewarded when, after several long, still heartbeats, his best friend sagged back against the wall, rubbing at his tired face again, and smirked.

"Understood," he murmured, his eyes flickering shut.

After a long silence, Roy sighed into his jacket, leaning his head onto his knees to gaze tiredly across the room. "Look, you don't have to worry about me," he murmured, though once again, Maes got the feeling he was just trying to not be overheard by his overprotective guard dog just outside. "I know I'm not exactly the inspiring picture of mental stability, here, but I'm- I'm okay. Really. I know none of you are going to- I know this isn't the hospital. I know you won't hurt me here, even if I have sometimes have to spend a little while convincing myself of it."

Maes nodded sadly, once again biting his tongue to stop himself from saying _sure you are._ Truth be told, Roy _was_ doing well; at least, as far as he could see… after what he'd been through- well, things could've been a lot worse. If the worst of it was Maes sitting with him up here while he calmed himself down and convinced himself nothing bad was going to happen- he'd take this. He'd _definitely_ take this.

He was just glad to have his best friend here with him again.

He was just glad to see him fighting- a slow struggle or not- to be okay again.

But then Roy went on again, still clutching the jacket and huddled up tight but finally relaxing a bit as he squinted towards the door, his face somehow tenser than before. "It's him I'm worried about. Fullmetal- he was treated much worse than I was, Maes. I know I'm not exactly a paragon of togetherness but I _will_ be fine. I know I can deal with this. B-but… him…"

"…He seems to be doing okay, Roy…"

"Well, he's _not,"_ the colonel shot back fiercely, almost surprising Maes with his vehemence; it so hushed Ed never could've heard it but angry and emphatic now, gesturing almost violently with his burned hand. "I may look a little more beat up than he is, but they treated him worse than they did me, and I'm worried about him. If you can't see that he's hurt you're not looking hard enough." He tensed again, fists curling, face bleaching even paler than before. "They only put me in that cell a few times. It wasn't for long at all, it was barely _anything_ , and I- I nearly lost my mind. …They left him in there for _weeks,_ Maes." His fists clenched again, dark eyes turning even blacker as if in a venomous rage, an angry cloud of cold anger sweeping across his pale face again. "He's not okay, no matter what he says. Al coming back helped him, but- but it wasn't enough. He's acting better than he is, and… I'm worried for him, Maes."

Maes paused, falling silent as he glanced between Roy and the gently propped open door. The exact specifics of what Ed had gone through were still unclear to him. Both alchemists had been rather cagey about their ordeals, giving them limited facts but as far as Maes was concerned, practically outright lying to make it all seem not as bad as it truly had been. Ed, especially, had been rather quiet about it- and now that he thought about it, Roy was _right;_ it was getting to be rather clear Ed was on the very edge of falling apart, and had only managed to stop himself thus far through Roy and Al's presence.

In fact, if it hadn't been for Al's support, and Ed trying to watch out for Roy as if the colonel desperately needed to be taken care of and Ed was the only one who could provide it, he wasn't sure Ed would've been able to hold himself together at all.

At least Roy had shown _some signs_ of having trouble. Ed was hiding them all.

"Yeah," Maes sighed heavily at last, shutting his eyes. "I'm worried about him, too."

The colonel went silent again, face resting still against his knee and shoulders slumped as if it was the weight of the world pulling on them.

"You'll be okay," Maes ventured softly, finally risking to move over to lay a hand on his arm. "Both of you will. It'll just take time, Roy."

"…I'm sure," the colonel muttered.

But he did not sound convinced, and his gaze did not leave the door the entire time.


	25. Chapter 25

Roy stayed in his room for the rest of the day.

As he'd told Maes, he was not _scared._ He wasn't frightened of the consequences waiting for him downstairs. He understood that there was no punishment at the ready, soldiers standing at attention to shove him into a straitjacket or drug him senseless or lock him in a tiny room and throw away the key.

He knew, based off his previous experiences, that all that was waiting for him was awkward silences, and his men (that he could not remember being _his)_ heavy-handedly, even more awkwardly trying to assure that he was okay.

That did not mean he could actually convince the tiny, terrified streak of instinct making his hands shiver, or that he wanted to be down there any time soon.

Maes, however, stayed with him.

It was a fact that he found as odd as it was comforting. He knew the man had work to do, and certainly wasn't doing any of it sitting in here with him, but- he actually didn't seem to mind it. He really didn't seem to have any issue just sitting up there in his old room with him, sitting on the bed across from him, talking on about anything and everything with seemingly no deeper motivation than just to keep his mind safely distracted and occupied. He seemed to be choosing his topics carefully, things that Roy could hear without being disturbed at what he'd forgotten or unsettled at the things he didn't know but should've- his young daughter Elicia had somehow absorbed up a whole hour. Hell, he'd even gone to go grab something for them to eat and bring it back upstairs for him so he didn't have to see the others.

Ed, once Al had arrived, had finally been convinced to go rest for a bit in his own room. It had taken some persuading, but once his brother was there to be with him, and Ed had been able to see that Maes was staying with Roy- that had been all that was needed for him to finally calm down just as Roy had been, and consent to going to rest himself.

It was touching in a way Roy couldn't really define, both Ed's reluctance and Maes' stubbornness, and more reassuring than he had words to say.

Before he'd left, Maes had hugged him. It had been tight and warm and unfamiliar in so many ways, but Maes had looked at him with such a confident smile he couldn't say no to it, and despite how miserable he'd been at the prospect of being alone beforehand, he'd found himself powerless to do anything but smile back, and promise that he'd be okay. Maes had sacrificed his entire day for him, just to try and help him feel a little more safe and at home- the least Roy could do was drag together enough strength to smile believably for him, and tell him that it had worked.

And, it was after the entirety of this harrowing, miserable, but strangely uplifting day, that Roy found himself sitting up late at night, utterly worn out- and utterly unable to sleep.

He'd been tired enough to curl up and sleep far earlier than usual that night, still shaken by everything that had happened that morning, He'd woken with a jolt to find himself sore, foggy-minded, but calm again, Maes' heavy jacket dragging around his shoulders like a blanket... yet also alone.

He'd expected it. Ed stayed the nights with Al, now, and Maes, reluctant or not, left every night to go home to his wife and daughter. This left Roy by himself. Ordinarily, he was fine with this. Knowing Ed was safe, of course, Roy had come to be able to appreciate the privacy at night, turning to quietly practicing his alchemy or reading over his old's rooms books or mulling over the blue of the jacket and the family that now surrounded him whenever he couldn't sleep.

And now…

Roy sighed, rolling onto his back to glare up at the ceiling.

Now, he'd already burned his hands badly enough to need to stop the alchemy, at least for today.

Now, he was tired of staring at these four walls all day long- tired of being confined, self-imposed or not, after straight _months_ of it already, and his skin itched and crawled, and he was _tired_ of it, and wanted freedom.

He rolled onto his side, glaring miserably right at the wall- then, with a heavy huff of air, just pushed himself upright.

He couldn't just sit in here anymore.

He rolled out of bed, a little unsteady on his feet and sore to the bone but simply too irritated with himself to give a damn. He slid his arms through the soft, worn sleeves, grateful Maes seemed to be bigger than him, big enough he could wield the thing like a blanket, and hugged the warm jacket to himself as he poked out into the hallway.

Ed and Al's room was just down the hall from his, so he went there first. Just crept along as quietly as he could, lingering just outside the shadow of the cracked open door to listen in. He heard nothing to be alarmed about, so, with another shaky breath, trying to steady the low wave of panic that seemed to always flutter through his chest, Roy closed his eyes, calming himself, and moved on.

In his earlier explorations of the bar, Roy had found it to be mostly deserted. Apparently, with the martial law and curfew laid down on the city, hers wasn't the most lucrative business to run; it was probably a bit selfish of Roy, but he was grateful for it. He craved the privacy. He luxuriated in it- and especially right now, because the way he'd felt today, he was just glad to be able to creep through the hallways alone. He wasn't sure how many people other than Maes and Ed he could face right now.

Roy moved on silently, turning his focus towards the small balcony he knew waited at the end of the hall. Maybe some fresh air would help clear his head… or at least help him to feel a little better. He frowned quietly to himself, still heading along towards the waiting door, huddling a little more under the jacket-

Then stopped, the instant the balcony came into view.

"I-" His heart lurched uncomfortably, sticking in his throat like tar and his feet nearly tripped into each other. "I'm sorry- I'll- I just- I didn't know-"

"Good evening," Madam Christmas said, and grinned at him. "Stop babbling."

"I'm…" He could see the bruise. Right there. He could see the damn bruise. It was dark and irritated and swollen, a mark on the side of her face in what was unmistakably a punch, a strike that the mere sight of made his hand suddenly ache and his stomach suddenly drop. "I didn't mean to- to-"

"In case you didn't notice, I'm over it by now, Roy-boy. Sort of have to be- you can't run a business predicated on throwing out drunk men who get a bit too aggressive without learning how to take a punch or two."

"But…"

"Come on," Christmas said, smiling up at him again, then waved for him to step outside. "You clearly came down here for something- don't let me scare you off." She took another deep drag off her cigarette, tapping at it restlessly, and throughout it all, continued to simply just... watch him. There was clearly no room in her gaze for anything but compliance.

Roy swallowed tightly, uneasy and cold in the doorway. He shivered, still hugging himself in the warm, oversized jacket, but somehow in the face of that heavy stare, very swiftly found himself with no choice but to step outside.

He sat stiffly down on the edge of the other chair, skin still crawling, and tried not to look as supremely uncomfortably as he felt. The fact that he'd mostly come looking for more privacy than anything else went leaden and unsaid on his tongue.

He suddenly missed Maes and Ed very, very much.

"Want a smoke?" she asked him at length, when Roy had managed to accomplish a sum of total of nothing besides just sit there like a useless, ineffectual lump. She reached over to offer him a second cigarette at him without looking. "You always did say they calmed you down."

Roy tensed again. It was far above the last thing she'd offered him, at least, though… probably even less healthy, if he thought about it... But, she was just sitting there holding it out and looking at him and just _waiting,_ and as much as he couldn't help but fidget and flinch under her inescapable eyes- after what he'd done to her that morning, he didn't have it in him to say no to her.

And so he reached out and took it. He stared uselessly at it between his fingers, heart thudding uncomfortably and a lack of words still sticking in his throat. He still felt vaguely sick.

"I smoke?" he asked at last, allowing her to light it. He breathed in tentatively and a warm, almost unbearable wave struck him head on, dragging him to pull in another breath that made him shiver at the sensation. Yes, he smoked, all right.

Christmas, however, shook her head- albeit with a small little smirk of her own. "You used to. You quit years ago, though- you were trying to get that Hughes friend of yours to quit and figured the only way was for you to ask him to do it along with you. I don't think he ever suspected your true motives."

"Hm." Roy glanced down at the jacket still slung around him, then pulled the cigarette from his mouth, staring at it as well. "How… selfless of me." For a moment, he wondered if he should reconsider the wisdom of indulging, but- well, apparently, Roy Mustang had smoked. And he was Roy Mustang, wasn't he? He breathed in deeply again, running his finger along the warm edge. "I guess I'm nicer than I look."

"Yes, you'd think that, wouldn't you?" She laughed quietly at him, almost mockingly, and Roy felt his face warm. "For approximately the first three hours, you were such a nice boy I could be proud of raising you. Then you spent the next four to six months driving everyone around you to the brink, and Hughes right along with you. You gave each other so many black eyes that adjutant of yours was worried about brain damage."

Roy blinked uncertainly again, gaze shifting again from his aunt to the cigarette. He'd… well, then. "That's-" He breathed in deeply, coughed a little, then forced himself to settle back against the chair, ignoring the faint stinging of pain along the still healing burns. "Oh," he murmured again.

Well, at least the violence seemed to have been mutual, this time.

A warm silence settled between them, somehow just a little bit easier than it had been before. It was chilly outside, expected at this time of night, but Christmas didn't seem to care, and Roy simply pulled his jacket a little tighter, at last relaxing enough to actually look around the small balcony and the street below. If everyone was to be believed, this was his childhood home, here- this, more than anything else, was what he was supposed to recognize. Maybe it had been decades, maybe it was the middle of the night and the street was deserted, and everything was different than the way it had been, but this had been his home for many years, and he was meant to know what it was. He was meant to recognize it all.

He recognized Riza.

He recognized Maes' jacket.

He recognized Ed.

He did not, however, recognize any of this place.

He did not recognize Christmas.

He didn't know his own home.

Roy huddled a little more into himself, aching fingers curling in his jacket, and planted his eyes down on his knees.

He wanted to remember, but he _couldn't._

"…I'm sorry," he murmured after a long silence, sinking back further into the chair. "I didn't mean to… hit you. I shouldn't have."

"Okay," she said easily, gaze still heavy on his shoulders. "I'm guessing Hughes made sure your hand was okay?"

Roy stared down at his hand, turning it over in his lap so he could eye the bruises across the back and the faint burns on his fingertips. Maes had brought him a cold washcloth at one point, helping him bring the swelling and irritation down, probably not as much as ice would've, but at least he'd been able to bear that. "It's fine," he heard himself say, voice faint and distant, still unable to look at anything other than his lap.

That was how everything was, nowadays. Not as horrific as it had been, not as terrible as he remembered- but missing everything he felt like he was supposed to be and feel.

It was fine. He could be this way.

He was always _fine._

Christmas sighed, the sound long and heavy in the night around them. She leaned forwards, tapping her cigarette into ground ash against the edge, not looking to him again, at least giving him that much, and there was another gentle stretch of silence. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw her smile, just a little. "It's been thirty years, and you really don't seem any different than you did as a kid, Roy. You did that all the time… just found some corner to hide in and tried to disappear. You know, your first teachers at school thought you had some sort of disorder, you were so quiet- you never shut up around Vanessa, you just got so fidgety around strangers…" She laughed quietly again, the sound familiar and not at the same time. "Took you a year to open up to others."

Roy coughed a little, a heat growing along the back of his neck again. His gaze darted up as if dragged, landing back on his foster mother and jumping off her almost immediately, something uncertain and uncomfortable squirming in his stomach. What was he supposed to say? What was he supposed to _do?_ "I…"

So this was familiar to her, even if it wasn't familiar to him. The way he was acting. The silence that always haunted his throat and taciturn hesitancy that shrouded his every thought, his every move- _she_ knew it. She had seen it in him before.

Shuddering, Roy looked down at himself, trying in vain to wrap his mind around it... how she could know him so well while he barely even knew himself. This Vanessa, too, this supposed sister of his when he hadn't even known he'd _had_ a sister- and not even by blood, apparently, none of them were his family by blood. He wasn't like Ed, who had his flesh and blood brother right next to him right now. Everyone here with him, all the support they'd given him, but none of them were like Ed and Al- and he just didn't remember _any_ of them.

No matter how hard he tried, no matter how many days he sat here and talked to these people that were supposed to be his team, his friends, his family-

He never knew them.

He tried with everything he had, straining his mind until it hurt. There just wasn't anything there to grasp.

"How do you know me?" he asked finally, the words just unable to be stopped. "How do you know all these things about me? I know you're my- my foster mother, but-… I'm sorry. I don't know what I'm trying to say. I-…" Roy groaned, rubbing a frustrated hand over his face, trying to orient his mind around the impossible words, but just couldn't. "I don't…"

There was a long pause. Christmas watched him still, he could see it out of the corner of his eye, her gaze never leaving him even as he found it impossible to look at her. She just sat there and watched him, waiting for him to find the explanation or the questions or the words he had to say- and when he failed at that, she spoke, without needing for him to give her a reason why.

"You had trouble remembering things as a kid, too. It was normal back then- nobody remembers anything from when they were five, no matter what drugs or fancy alchemy they got themselves mixed up in." She took another drag off her cigarette then tapped it against the edge again, hot ash dusting gently against the brick. "Like I told you, we don't have any blood relation. I never knew your family. I can tell you what I know, but… it may disappoint you, Roy. What I know, and how little of it that I know."

The words were foreboding, quietly cautioning that he approach this with more than a hint of caution- but Roy found himself nodding before she'd even finished speaking. His head was dragged into a nod and his heart started hammer before his mind had even grasped what she was trying to say because the decision had been made months ago before he'd ever met her. The decision had been made since those damn nurses had refused to answer his questions, when he'd asked who he was and all he'd been told was that he wasn't _allowed_ to know. He'd known he wanted to know no matter how painful or horrible it was- because it was even more unbearable not to.

"I want to know the truth," he said.

He didn't care about all the reasons not to.

All he cared about was the truth of who he was.

And Christmas, like Riza, took one long, evaluative look at him, her dark eyes that looked nothing like his unreadable but dangerous enough that he knew this story would hurt, but Roy looked her head on and did not falter no matter how hard his heart quaked in his chest. He looked at her as she watched him, quietly judging him, deciding whether or not he could handle this, and he sat there straight-backed and sure and held her gaze, because out of everything else, this was one test he had to pass.

There was another long moment of quiet.

Then, she slowly took another breath of her cigarette, and told him.

"Your parents are both from Xing. They slipped into Amestris illegally some thirty years ago… I think you were born here, but that's just how the math works out- I honestly don't know."

He nodded slowly, the uncertainty clenching in his chest again- but somehow, this was bearable. For it to have _always_ been uncertain, for him to _never_ have known, rather than have it maliciously kept from him for so long. He could take this. He must've his entire life- so he could keep going with it now."All right," he murmured guardedly, still waiting.

Christmas sighed, lowering her cigarette from her lips again. This time, she was not looking at him. "An immigration raid picked you and your mother up during the influenza of 1890. She was sick, and… wasn't doing well. Amestris has never been kind to immigrants, but even if they'd wanted to, there wasn't much they could do for her- I don't think she'd ever been very healthy anyway. She was dying."

Roy stiffened. His breaths, already somewhat unsteady, caught weakly in his throat, and for a moment it felt like he'd just been hurtled off a train track into a ditch.

Dying. Dead? _Dead?_

Well- god, he wasn't sure what exactly he'd expected, being raised by a _foster mother_ and all, of course his parents were dead, but- but-

"Like Ed's mother…" Roy murmured aloud, the realization stumbling past his lips before he could even think to stop it. That was what Ed had told him, wasn't it? His mother had fallen ill and died… just like his own? She was _dead?_

He blinked, then, realizing Christmas was looking at him oddly, and quickly shrugged it off as best he could, arranging a strained sort of smile back on his face. "Sorry," he murmured, trying not to think. He had to keep her going. Couldn't be too affected now. He had to _know._ "I'm sorry. I just- never mind. Go on."

His foster mother let out another sigh, turning away with a frown. "I got involved because I had a friend who worked in immigration, in the military, and they called me over for you, Roy."

"Me?"

"Yes, you." She scowled darkly, fingers twitching. "Like I said, Amestris has never been kind to immigrants, but they were especially cruel thirty years ago. Your mother was half-dead and contagious, there was no point in sending her anywhere, and so that left just you- and Amestrian law was absolute. All adults who enter the country illegally are kicked out. All children who do the same, unless they can find an Amestrian citizen to foster them, were given the same fate- and no Amestrian would ever foster a Xingese child. They knew that when they wrote the law… it was a death sentence in everything but name and they meant it that way." She shook her head with a quiet sense of disgust, her face still just as calm and her cigarette still tapping oh so gently against the stone, but her eyes, silently burning with a long festering sense of injustice. "It was cruel and barbaric. But there also wasn't any question about it. Without your mother you'd have stood no chance, Roy- you just would've keeled over somewhere in that sandbox and dropped dead. And I was the only shot you had to get out of there any other way."

Roy blinked again.

For an impossible few moments, he sincerely tried to wrap his head around it, looking down at himself and trying to see a much younger boy, alone and lost in a desert he did not remember without a mother that he had never seen. He tried to grasp what he had once been, but it was such a dizzying, wholly strangle impossibility it felt like sand slipping through his strings, and after another heartbeat, he just shook his head and stopped trying.

He swallowed hard, more shellshocked than anything else, and by the look in Christmas' eyes, his expression was worrying her- but he just didn't know how he was supposed to react. What he was supposed to feel. A shiver ran down his spine and he huddled deeper back into his chair, clinging to Maes' jacket, and blinked several times to the night sky just so he wouldn't have to look at her.

"…so you saved my life," he managed finally, his mind and understanding so impossibly distant it felt as if he wasn't even the one saying it at all.

Just out of the corner of his eye, he caught one slow, grave nod.

Roy swallowed hard again. "…Thank you."

"No. There's nothing to thank me for. If anything, thank my friend in the military, who keyed me in to what was about to happen to you." She smiled slightly at him again, but there was a hard edge to it, a cold, brutal sort of thing. "Most children who get picked up have their parents with them- it was cruel and unfair, but with their parents helping them, at least they'd live. It'd have been crueler for me to foster those children but tear them away from their families but- you didn't have a family anymore. You just needed a second chance… hell, you needed a _first_ chance. I was happy to give that to you. Our government shouldn't have taken it away from you in the first place."

Another thank you rose in his throat, sincere gratitude that was only just held back by a wave of emotion. He blinked and tried not to cough, struggling to hold as still and unaffected as possible- but as much as he tried, even he could not hold back the slightest waver in his voice as he spoke again. "Vanessa?"

Thankfully, Christmas understood what he was asking for without needing any more explanation than that. "Runaway. I picked her up when she was fourteen and a prostitute… just a few months before I found you, actually. She wasn't illegal, but she needed a home just as much as you did."

"And the- the others?"

She sighed heavily again, voice lower than before. "Similar stories, all of them. Jacqueline ran to get away from the civil war in Creta… Annalee's parents died and she lost her arm in the same accident." Christmas paused for a moment, mouth tightening into an angry, stern line. "I found Mei in the sex trade."

There was a dark silence. Another cold shudder slithered down Roy's spine.

"I wouldn't feel too bad you don't remember very much," she went on gruffly after several moments, turning her eyes away, and Roy was grateful for the chance to regain his composure. "Like I said, you never really remembered your parents, kid… you were just too young when I took you. You came here when you were five, and- and, Roy, there's really nothing much to even thank me for. I didn't do much more than give you a safe place to sleep at night, because you just managed everything yourself…" She smirked a little, amused eyes landing on him again. "Precocious little brat. You spent your childhood being as self-sufficient as a kid can be, left home when you were just thirteen- wanted to go out east to find yourself an alchemy teacher, you did, so we found you a master to train under, and you've never really come back since."

Roy tried to wrap his mind around it, shivering still and more than a little lost. "Hawkeye?" he asked, the word strange in his mouth. He knew Riza, of course, but when reminded of his so-called alchemy teacher, no face or name came to his mind whatsoever.

Christmas confirmed it straight away, though, making the weight on his heart a little easier as she smiled encouragingly and offered another steady nod. "So you've already talked to Riza. Yes. The Hawkeyes. You spent a few years out there, writing back whenever you remembered a pen had uses besides magic. Then you ended up back in Central in the military academy where you met that Hughes friend of yours- and from then on you've been running in and out of the city on duty. Gotten plenty of drinks here, but you haven't stayed here since you were thirteen, Roy." She offered him another small smile, reaching over to pluck the already slowly crumbling cigarette from his hands so she could smush it out against the railing. "I wouldn't feel bad that you can't remember us. I certainly don't blame you for it."

"…I see," was all he could say. He sat there unsurely, certainly not sure of himself anymore, and continued to avert his eyes just because he still didn't think he could face her. He looked down at his strange hands, his pale, injured, guilty hands, and swallowed again, struggling to stumble over the enormity of what he'd just heard.

"Amestris changed their immigration laws a few years ago," Christmas went on quietly, and this time, her hand was close enough to move over and pat his. He didn't flinch, but it was a near thing. "A faction in the military campaigned for it to win back some public support after the war, trying to appeal to whatever sense of morality this country has left. They stuck you up as the posterboy. Hero of Ishval and illegal child of immigrants, all at once… it's my understanding you and that Hughes boy just manipulated public sentiments to pull it off- I remember you being incredibly annoyed at the time, but Hughes made you stick with it." She smiled a little, an expression that he wasn't sure what to make of, and patted his hand again before pulling away. "That's really what you've spent the last several years doing, with him and Hawkeye. Putting on a good face to let the military use you while you pull strings and manipulate them right back, for the greater good. You're rarely proud of it." She paused. "I think you should be."

There was a long, uncomfortable silence. Roy continued to look away from her, so many things so hard these days and facing his own family seeming to be the hardest of them all, perhaps only challenged by this newer struggler of facing himself. He thought of Riza, her burned back by his hand but her request. He thought of Maes, who avoided his questions more often than not, dodging them because the answers had to be something that would hurt to hear.

He thought of Christmas, sitting right there next to him, with a bruise on her face because he couldn't control himself.

"…Who is my father?"

Christmas didn't respond. She didn't even stiffen at the question, or if she did Roy couldn't see it, unable to make himself look at her head on and instead just staring out to the deserted street and black sky, hands clenching over and over around Maes' jacket. She didn't answer him so Roy couldn't look at her, his stomach twisted into knots and throat suddenly aching and dry, but the words were still there and ready at the tip of his tongue and they had to be said. "You said you met me and that I was with my mother, but you didn't mention my father. Who is he? …was he?"

For several moments, Christmas didn't answer him.

Then, instead of a reply, she merely reached a hand over to his, and handed him something. A picture. He blinked. It was a picture. A small, black and white picture stuck in a protective sleeve, but now in his hand, with hers still resting over them both.

"I've been waiting for you to ask me about this for some time," he heard her say, the words distant underneath the muted roar in his head, but Roy barely processed it, his attention too focused on that single picture to even remember she was there.

He fingered the protective sleeve, squinting at it in the low light. It was clearly very old, but had been taken care of extremely well. The snapshot appeared to be a woman and her child, a small, fragile family in black and white sitting underneath a window, a pale-skinned, dark-haired boy in an even paler, darker-haired woman's lap, both shrouded in blankets and clothes too big. There was a medical mask over the boy's face and gloves over his hands, though it was the woman who looked sick, while the child looked to be on the verge of tears.

Roy swallowed hard, his thumb brushing over the edge of the boy's face.

"That was the last night you were able to stay with her," Christmas said quietly; only some small part of him could even hear her, the rest of him still so transfixed by that photo. "Until that day, she'd been hanging onto the hope that your father was going to come back for you and I wouldn't have to take you. He'd been at work, when the raid happened, so it was just you and her, but she was hoping... they spread the word around that neighborhood that they were looking for him. If he'd turned himself in, he would've had to leave the country, but at least he could taken you with him."

There was a short silence. This time, Roy kept his gaze on the picture, because for the first time, he already knew where this story was going.

So he hadn't shown up, then.

He'd never showed, and Roy had gone into a stranger's arms, because there'd been no one else there to take him.

"That night," Christmas told him quietly, "was when she signed over custody to me. We never did find your father, and I think she'd finally accepted that he wasn't coming." She gestured to the picture in his hands, voice never wavering even as the careful, calm facade that Roy was clinging so tightly to did. "That night she said goodbye to you, and asked for me to take that picture so you'd always be able to remember who she was. Then she took you over to the window so you could see, and she picked you up and told you that she was going to have to go away soon, but whenever you got lonely, you could look up into the night sky and see her watching over you." There was a beat of silence between them, his foster mother joining him in looking down at picture of his first one, and again, Roy found that he just didn't have the words.

"It's a Xingese fable," she told him. "That the ancestors and your family join the stars when they die so they can always keep watch on the living. She told it to me after she told it to you... she wanted you to always have at least that much of where you're from, even if you were going to have to lose everything else."

Roy shifted, shivering a little in the cold air. The words hit him in more ways than one and he had to unclench his fingers, letting the picture drift down to his lap before his hand could tense and ruin it. His heart pounded sickeningly hard, and for several breaths he felt too overwhelmed to even think.

"Keep it," Christmas told him, not even waiting for him to try and hand it back. "I have plenty of copies of it- just in case."

Roy swallowed again, throat tightening to the point where he couldn't even thank her, and for several moments was powerless to manage anything more complicated than a tiny, choked sniffle turned cough at the last moment.

"...Thank you," he said quietly, voice still a struggle to force past the lump in his throat but it had to be done. His hand trembled as he fought not to squeeze and ruin it but he couldn't put it down all the same, gaze still fixated on that tiny piece of memory that had somehow became all he had.

Except, that wasn't all he had anymore, was it?

Roy took in a deep breath, gaze still fixated on that picture but thoughts leaving him to travel elsewhere. Maes was here with him everyday, no matter how difficult Roy was probably being, no matter his initial- if unintentional and highly regretted- attack on his wife. Riza was here, no matter their checkered past, intensely loyal even if he could no longer remember why that was. There was always Ed. He didn't have to even question that.

And there was Madam Christmas and his sisters, too.

Blood or not- they were his family.

And...

Roy stared down at the old, precious photograph once again, then tilted his head back, smiling up to the dark, overcast sky up above. Even through the clouds, there was still a faint gleam of misted silver.

He wasn't alone.

No matter how much that hospital had tried to make it seem like, he was not alone here anymore.

"Thank you," he said again finally, curling his bandaged hands around the photo. _For letting me come home... and for giving me a place to come home to._

He couldn't spell it out with his already weak, wavering voice, emotion tightening his throat past the point of speech. But when she nodded to him, hand on his shoulder again, murmuring, "You're welcome, Roy," he knew she'd heard everything he couldn't say, that all his friends had after all this time, and that was good enough for him.

* * *

"But I'm worried about him-"

"He can take care of himself!"

"Where is he going? It's the middle of the night, he- I should follow-"

"There's nowhere for him to go. The team's watching every entrance, Brother..."

"But... he was upset earlier today, I don't want-"

"Brother." The suit of armor- somehow- took in a great big breath, situating himself around so Ed would have to somehow manage a leap over his head if he wanted to make it to the cracked open door to his room. "Colonel Mustang is fine. _You_ are the one that is not fine, because you're still hurt, and if you try and go searching for him now you'll end up getting no sleep again and you'll feel terrible for it tomorrow. _Again."_ Al shifted around a little more to more thoroughly block his way, Ed still sitting up on the bed and nervous, unable to help himself from twitching, worrying about Roy, because _what was he doing this time of night_ , _where was he going..._

But Al didn't seem to be about to move. And, worse than that, his brother was technically right. There was nowhere Roy could go that would be a problem here, and hell, the bastard had even promised him he'd be okay. Roy didn't have someone like Al to keep him company- he was probably just going to find someone to talk to.

He took in a shaky breath, gripping the sheets a little tighter, and tried to still the tremors still growing in the base of his spine. Roy was okay. Roy was... always okay, really. Or at least more stable than Ed was.

It was Ed who was the screw up.

He took in a deep, slightly wavering breath, re-situating himself on the bed to try and find an at least marginally comfortable position. His back still hurt, it always did, but he was accustomed to the pain by now, curling with the blankets to lean against the wall. His brother hesitated for a few moments, watching him, seeming to be judging whether or not Ed was going to head out after Roy after all, but when he did not, Al relaxed, too. With a clank of metal, he moved from the floor to the bed opposite him, sinking onto it despite it being about a third his size.

Ed smiled for a moment, the sheer incongruity of the sight dragging the expression onto his face, something of the tension fading with the lightheartedness. "Do you actually use beds?" he asked. leaning back against the wall. He didn't want to close his eyes just yet, he found. "I mean, you can't sleep, so..."

Al shrugged with another gentle clink of armor. "Not really, but it's easier to pretend. We used to try and get a room with just one bed, when we were traveling? But people would always look at us weird, and then they'd start asking questions we couldn't answer... it was just safer this way. We even had a second bed moved into your room at the dorms for appearances." He looked at Ed in a way that made it feel like he was smiling at him, eyes warm as a blanket even in that cold, unmoving face. "It's a little weird, but... well, most of what we do is. We're used to it by now."

Again, Ed had to grin at that. "I'm sure we are," he chuckled, but the levity quickly faded as he looked over his brother again, the strange sight of him on the bed and how at peace and normal he looked in a situation was screwed up as this. "But if you don't sleep, then... what do you do? All night long, I mean? That's- that's a _long_ time... I know you've been studying in the nights right now, but you can't really do that all the time."

For some reason, however, Al seemed to actually find this funny. The suit of armor, instead of answering, suddenly ducked his head, the light of humor burning in his soulfire eyes as his huge shoulders slunk loudly down, as if he was trying to make himself smaller even while being three times Ed's size alone. "It sounds crazy, doesn't it? Well... I actually... I actually did, Brother."

Ed blinked blankly..

His brother gestured a little around the room, a weak smile forming on his helmet in a way Ed was just finally starting to get used to. "You know how you have automail? Well, it was really hard on you to get- you were sick and trying to sleep it off for a long time. This was a while ago, you know, years ago... but back then, you'd already promised me we were going to get our bodies back. That was the last thing you said to me before you get the automail, the very last thing, and- I-" He broke off for a moment, turning away under the the haze of a long distant memory that was nothing more than an indistinct cloud, to Ed... but a very present, very vivid, and very _real_ memory to Al.

Ed scooted forward a little more, arm wrapping around himself as he straightened up in earnest, and listened on.

"I wasn't going to just let you do it alone," he sighed finally. "Because I knew you were going to try to. I _knew_ that the very second you could get your eyes open, you were going to start researching with or without me, and so I decided I was going to start first." His voice wavered a little bit, hesitating over the emotion in a way that was startling and somehow, so very _human,_ but he kept forging on without even the slightest pause. "We still had all the books we'd used to bring Mom back... I just got them again and started reading. Whenever you were awake I'd be with you but- but if not, I was working."

After a few, uncertain moments, Ed scooted himself a little closer. He wasn't sure if he could bring himself to touch him, to make the initial contact himself, but whatever it was inside him that was so skittish and downright frightened nowadays was quiet enough for him to at least sit closer to his brother, and for that, he was grateful. He hesitated, biting his lip as those words turned over in his head, curling with a sudden quiet yet intense flare of protectiveness in his chest, a flare that was as surprising as it was... familiar.

He smiled a little, glancing up at his brother. "I probably yelled at you a lot for trying to do it, didn't I?"

To his surprise, however, Al laughed again, shaking his head in a gentle clank of metal. "No, actually, it wasn't you. Don't get me wrong, you _would've_ yelled if you'd known, but you didn't. I didn't want you to know. You had so much to try and deal with and you're right, you would've felt so _guilty_ if you'd known, I didn't want that on your shoulders too... I just hid it from you." He managed another attempt at an apologetic smile, but it was fragile, this time, no more convincing than Ed found himself these days, and again he found himself recognizing something of himself in his brother.

"I don't really know what I was thinking..." Al sighed unhappily,, still avoiding his gaze. "I guess, in my head, it was pretty simple. I didn't have to eat or sleep or move. I wasn't hurt like you, I didn't need to rest. I didn't have anything else I had to do but devote every single moment to helping you." He paused again, hands wringing together absently in his lap. "I... think I remember those couple of weeks about as well as you do. I started forgetting how to move... I'd try to talk to Winry about you and all that would come out was Paracelsus' theory of reconstruction."

At this, Al laughed a little again, smiling reassuringly down at Ed. He was clearly trying to make light of it and put him at ease at the same time, assure him that it hadn't really mattered and laugh it off as no big deal.

Ed wasn't so sure he got the joke.

"In the end, Pinako took all the books away." Al shook his head with another small, wistful sort of smile. "I pretty much threw a tantrum, which made Winry cry, and Pinako told me I wasn't allowed to be so loud in your room and kicked me out. I was still pretty out of it, I guess, I'm still not sure how it all happened, but at some point Winry came along and took my helmet so I couldn't stop her and ran outside with me. We sat under this tree near her house and she put me in her lap and said I wouldn't get my body back until I agreed to listen to her. And then..."

He sighed wistfully again, head tilting back as he shifted around a little as if on autopilot, moving behind Ed. Ed froze, a nauseating sort of unease curling deep in his stomach at the suddenness of a person at his back, moving in a way he could not see and touching him in a way that he could not defend against, but no pain came, no violation of trust of any kind. Instead there was just the gentle shifting of his hair, long pieces of it carefully pulled back behind his shoulders in the softest, carefullest way imaginable, tugging so lightly at his scalp, pulling his head just the slightest inch back...

It felt familiar. It felt like something he'd sat still for before.

It felt _right._

An unasked for smile was suddenly slipping onto his face; he felt it curling up his lips before he understood what was happening, tugging at his heartstrings just as Al pulled through his hair, and before he knew it, he was crying a little, too.

He was braiding his hair.

"We sat out there for a long time. She was still crying, and... and she just kept begging me to stop. That she knew I couldn't sleep anymore but I was still hurting myself and she couldn't let me do it anymore." His hair was pulled gently again, so gently it didn't even hurt at all, and Ed just knew his brother was smiling. "I wasn't listening to her at first, I was just as upset as she was... I think when she realized that she was just quiet for a while. Then, she just started pointing out constellations in the sky to me. It was a Risembool tradition, stargazing, moms were supposed to teach their kids how to read the skies in case they ever got lost out there- Winry's mom had done it for her, and ours did it for us... she said she knew it wasn't the same, but knew we all remembered snuggling under a blanket together and rubbing our eyes and nodding off under the night skies together, and even if I couldn't sleep right now I could at least do some of the same now. That there was something I could do, and if I got lonely she'd do it with me. That there'd... there'd _always_ be people willing to help me, and all I had to do was agree to let them."

Again, Ed realized, he was crying. He didn't want to draw attention to it but trying to wipe it away, so instead simply just found himself sitting stock still, letting them slip slowly and painfully down his cheeks, a fist squeezing his heart so hard he wouldn't have been surprised if it broke.

"...she sounds like a great friend," he forced out at last, only letting himself when he was absolutely sure his voice would come out steady.

Al's hands shifted through his hair again, the wonderful smile on his face still evident in his voice alone. "She is. And soon you'll remember that for yourself. And she really did save me that night. She was right... just because I can't sleep doesn't mean I can keep going for forever. If I truly wanted to help you, if I wanted to do anything besides punish myself, I had to be strong enough to put the books away sometimes and close my eyes... and she was the one who made me understand that."

Ed, heart still clenching so tight in his chest it was nearly all he could do to just breathe, forced himself to sit still, allowing his brother to continue to comb through his hair. "So that's what you do at night, then?' he asked, albeit, again, only when he could get the words out without them breaking. "You look at the stars?"

Al shrugged a little, though the move somehow didn't jostle him by his hair at all. "Yes. It's kinda funny, actually... for a while, it was helping me, but it was hard to just turn my brain off, you know? I spent so _many_ hours just watching the stars move, trying not to think about anything but that... eventually I got so interested in it I started writing a paper on it, trying to make an argument for a heliocentric hypothesis instead of a geocentric one. I was about to send it off, had it under a pseudonym and everything, but then you just asked me if I was okay, that I'd been distracted lately, and I realized I'd just traded one obsession for another." He sighed, one hand slowly trailing away from Ed's hair to rest down on the mattress, something quietly resigned lilting through every word. "That night, I threw the paper away. All I let myself do now is look up at the stars. Meditate if I can. ...I think I'll start it again, someday, but I've already decided I'll only do it when I can sleep at night."

Ed swallowed hard again. Some part of him felt very sure that if Al could so much as glimpse the look on his face right now, he'd find himself tugged right into another bone-crushing hug. Somehow, he wasn't even positive that he'd mind it. "...I wouldn't mind reading that paper," he said, when he could trust himself to speak again. He tossed a grin over his shoulder, reaching back to touch his foot. Boot. Whatever. "Sounds interesting."

"Oh, it is! And you will read it someday!" Al let go of his hair, the half-formed, loose braid straggling apart as his hand went to his shoulder instead, brother beaming at him brighter than the goddammed sun. "But not until we _both_ have our bodies back- _and_ you have your memory back."

"And Roy."

Al stilled for a moment, staring quietly at him- and then, somehow, he was beaming even brighter. "And Colonel Mustang," he agreed, squeezing his shoulder.

There was another peaceful moment of silence. It was, without a doubt, the happiest that Ed had felt in weeks.

However, it was only that- just one moment.

Because a heartbeat later, Al was suddenly on him, shaking his head and trying to gently guide him back down onto the bed, already shaking out the blankets and somehow fluffing the pillow at the same time. "I saw that, Brother!"

"W-what? Al-"

"I saw that yawn! I knew it, you're tired!"

"I-" He'd yawned? Since _when?_ How had Al seen it before Ed had even known? "Come on, Al, I..." ...okay, he actually _was_ a little tired, but...

"No buts!" Al said firmly, shaking out the blankets firmly before standing back, all but ordering him to squirm underneath them. "You know you need the sleep, Brother, you've been exhausted this whole time I've been here; I won't let you try to stay up all night _again._ Colonel Mustang's fine, you're fine, _I'm_ fine, and now you need to sleep. Okay? Everything will be better tomorrow morning."

"You... jeez, Al..."

But he was already being tucked in, and then his brother was already sitting firmly down on the floor across from him, leaving the dim lights on and the door still cracked open without even the slightest attempt to change it and clearly settling himself in for the long haul.

And Ed knew, somewhere deep inside him, he wasn't supposed to like this.

He wasn't supposed to like being told what to do. He wasn't supposed to like being ordered what time to go to sleep and sat down in bed, door open but it didn't _really_ matter, because if he actually tried to leave to find Roy, Al would stop him.

And he _especially_ wasn't supposed to like being told to do something _for his own good._

But... it was his brother.

It was that simple.

If Roy told him to do something, he'd do it, because he trusted Roy.

If Al told him to do something... well, he'd try to do it, too.

He trusted Al.

So he'd trust Al right now, and he'd let himself settle back down underneath the warm, comforting blankets, and shut his eyes.

...

He shifted a little, back too hurt to turn over so he just kicked unhappily at the mattress again.

...

He clutched his fingers irritatedly around the blanket.

...

He hugged the spare pillow to his chest.

...

He opened his eyes up again, and glared.

And there was Al. Right there, like he'd always promised to be, sitting across from him and waiting like he had nowhere better to be in the world. He smiled sympathetically. "Can't sleep, huh?"

Ed withered a little more under the sheets, hugging the pillow as tight as he could. "Not really," he mumbled. He was so used to being drugged senseless that some days, it felt like he'd forgotten how to sleep on his own. He'd skipped the sleeping pills as much as he could in the beginning, but after they'd shoved him into that straitjacket... that _room..._ when the drugs had just come in needles they'd stabbed into him without his consent...

"...Brother? Are you okay?"

He jumped, shuddered, then forced out a short, almost violent nod, wrenching himself away from that _place_ and back next to his brother as quickly as he could. "Yeah," he mumbled roughly, the thick word muffling itself into the pillow, and said nothing more.

There was another uncomfortable sort of silence. Al's smile had faded now, and to Ed, Edward Elric the fucking screw up as always, it felt like the little slice of peace he'd last managed to grasp had just been turned around on its head and dumped right on the floor. He felt miserably sick and guiltridden, cold out of nowhere under the blankets, and for few moments, couldn't say anything at all.

Then, with much clanking of metal and thudding on the floor, Al maneuvered himself around on the floor to sit with his back against Ed's bed instead, scooted himself so he was sitting right by Ed's head- and lifted a hand to point out the clear window out to the night sky.

"The first star Mom taught us about was the North Star. You see it, Brother? It's the brightest one, right over there... that's right. Scientists call it Polaris, but Mom called it the North Star, because if you can find it, no matter where you are, you know you're looking north, and you know you can find your way home." Al smiled at him again, lowering the hand pointing out the window to rest on the edge of the bed again, just near enough for Ed to feel it. "It's actually one of the first stars I studied for my hypothesis. Mom told us that it's special, because it's always in the same place in the night sky... that even when everything else has changed, and everything else is different, no matter how lost you are... you'll always have at least one thing that's the same to guide your way home."


	26. Chapter 26

The day that he and Ed were driven in to meet the military, exactly two weeks and three days after he'd woken up in Madam Christmas' bar, was one of the strangest of Roy's life.

He was pretty sure that was true, even while knowing he remembered pretty much none of the days of his life.

Because it was _weird._

After a night full of reassuring, calming promises that everything was going to be okay, promises that only proceeded to make Roy more nervous than he'd already been and Ed along with him, because he'd _been_ fine, but he'd stopped being fine when surrounded by people anxiously trying to keep him that way, he'd been woken by a harried, anxious Maes at dawn. His friend had made him shave, then helped him get dressed in a full uniform that he did not recognize, tugging every ribbon and badge and service stripe right into place without even trying to give Roy the chance to do it for himself. Roy was a bit glad for it... the sheer number of the insignias had been dizzying.

Maes had also taken his jacket back, this time in no uncertain terms. Apparently, it was staying right here at his aunt's bar, where it'd be safe and waiting for his return, but it was very important that he did not wear it today, because it wasn't _his,_ and the people he was going to see would care a great deal about that.

Roy's half-hearted joke that perhaps they should just loosen up had gotten him a fond sort of glare, another straightening tug on his jacket, and a flat, direct order not to say any such thing to anyone that he met today.

"No, seriously," Maes had added heavily after that, now dusting off his shoulders like the world's most obsessive mother hen. "I know you tend to think you have a stellar sense of humor, but I promise you, General Hakuro is not the audience you want to play to. Just keep your mouth shut, do as you're told, speak only when spoken to, and then you can whine about how annoyed you are with me when we get back here tonight. Okay?"

Roy scowled, resisting the urge to shake his hands straight off him. "My jokes are hilarious."

With a sigh, Maes looked him up and down one last time, eyes narrowed, then, evidently satisfied with what he'd seen, focused back on Roy's face and rolled his eyes. "Sure they are," he said, reaching out to pat his cheek fondly with the flat of his hand. "If only you'd ever managed to actually tell a joke in your life, buddy. Now, come on."

Once he'd been tugged out into the dark hallway, he'd almost immediately ran into a yawning and similarly discomforted Ed, the boy tugging unhappily at his uniform and pushing at his sleeves over and over again. "...you sure I wore this?" he was asking Havoc, face creased into a sleepy sort of frown. That frown transformed into something just a little bit more relieved the moment he saw Roy, and a moment later he'd already fallen into step with him, allowing the others to all lead them out of the bar.

There'd been a car waiting for them just outside on the dark, deserted streets, which Maes had ushered them into and Riza had started driving the moment the door had swung shut behind them. Al and Maes went with them, Ed's brother filling the space with forcedly cheerful, constant chatter while Maes had sat, tense and silent, narrowed eyes watching the streets pass by with an air of wariness that was downright unsettling.

He still wasn't quite sure _what_ all the hassle was about, but he was sure that he did not like it.

They drove through three separate blockades, including the one leading to the military base, Maes told them. Riza had flashed some sort of ID to speed them through every one, but many times Roy hadn't been able to help glancing out the window and found himself unsettled by just how many soldiers he saw. Blue uniforms like his were everywhere, and only that... he wasn't sure he'd seen someone that wasn't a soldier since he'd left his aunt's bar.

He remembered what Maes had told them about the city being under martial law. Because of, if he was to be believed, what he and Ed had been forced to do.

He shivered again.

"Remind me, again, why we're doing this," he grumbled uneasily, hugging himself. His hands felt cold, and he hated it.

Maes had let him keep his gloves but only if he promised to leave them in his pocket for the meeting. His hands felt naked and freezing without them.

From the front seat, Maes twisted back around to grin confidently at them both. "Don't you worry," the man promised, far too self-assured to be believed. "We already told Hakuro he's meeting you today. All he's going to want is proof that neither of you are in any sort of fighting condition. Once he's satisfied that you are not, we can head back, okay?"

Roy glanced uncomfortably at Ed, only to find the kid already looking right back up at him, hand curling nervously into his empty sleeve and eyes big and worried. Swallowing, Roy reached out to rest his good hand on his shoulder, squeezing a little in reassurance even as he turned back to his friend. "...well... I actually _can_ use my gloves... so-"

Riza gave a short scoff of annoyance while Maes was suddenly rolling his eyes, looking like he'd pat his cheek again if he could reach it. "You are a human grenade launcher and flamethrower rolled into one. When they find out how severely lacking your confidence is in your aim, they'll be nervous you even have your gloves on you. And Edward, don't you even start either- I'll be impressed if you can even draw an array right now. Trust us, Hakuro won't want anything to do with either of you right now-"

"Except that part about how we've been funding a civil war," Ed cut in shortly, all but sulking back against the seat.

Maes' smile fell.

"You know," Ed went on, shrugging dispassionately. "Just saying." He picked nervously at his sleeve again.

The investigator sighed. His worried eyes searched in between them, uncertain as if he wanted to press the point, but after a few moments he just shook his head and tried to smile. "You'll see," he assured. "Everything will turn out fine, you two. I promise."

Roy, however, could not help but share Ed's apprehension over the matter, and when his friend turned away, found himself squeezing his shoulder a little tighter again, a silent, wordless promise right on the heel of Maes' that everything would be okay.

He'd take responsibility, if he had to. If this _Hakuro_ decided their story and Maes' assurances weren't enough to absolve them of blame, Roy would take both of their shares onto his shoulders. He knew Maes would tell him he was being ridiculous- and, quite frankly, that Ed would lose it and tell him off if he even realized that was his intention- but Roy was currently cultivating a healthy distrust of authority and an increasingly unhealthy sense of nerves.

If Hakuro wanted to force his hand, then he'd welcome it.

And if he wanted to force his hand even further...

Well, he still had his gloves.

He'd used them before. He was more than willing to use them again.

Somehow, they at least got onto the military base in short order. Roy was given very little time to observe the monstrous building looming before them as Riza took them swiftly into a garage, taking them past yet another blockade and yet another small, veritable battalion of soldiers, and before he knew it they were parked. Before he knew it, there was nowhere else to go, nowhere else to run, but straight into the military's arms.

Roy swallowed tightly. Next to him, Ed, who had gotten increasingly silent and withdrawn the closer they'd gotten to this meeting, leaned a little more into his hand, eyes huge and darting all over the car like it might just upheave and strangle him at any moment.

The others got out of the car, Riza and Maes and Al all getting to their feet while Roy and Ed remained behind. Doors were swung shut then pulled open for the both of them, a smiling Maes waiting for Roy and Al already proffering a helping hand out to his brother. Riza remained a little way's away with her back to them, scanning the garage with narrowed eyes as if on guard or on the wait for an assassin.

Right. That really was a comforting sight. Really made him feel assured and safe to be here.

"Well," Roy said shakily, turning back to look at Ed. He tried to force a smile. "Let's get this over with, then, Fullmetal."

He squeezed his shoulder again, trying to promise, without words or not, that it would be okay. _I'll take care of this. You can trust me._

Ed watched him for several moments, uncertainty and worry chasing away the shadows on his face into a naked fear. He didn't say anything, just watched Roy and let his hand stay on his shoulder, looking up into his eyes as if searching for something there that he could rely on. That he knew he could depend on.

A few moments and one steady nod later, Ed pulled away and went to his brother's arms, working himself out of the car, and Roy finally allowed himself to go to into Maes'.

Roy had gotten the cast taken off his arm a few days ago. It still hurt and felt exceedingly awkward, hard to move after how long it had been confined, and even though Roy knew he was probably right, he'd ignored all of Maes' gentle prodding for him to move his arm around. He could snap his fingers, and that was enough for him... even if they were still bruised and burned from so many repeated attempts at alchemy it felt as if they would never heal.

Ed, on the other hand, was still healing from the wounds on his back, but was stronger and steadier by the day. In fact, part of Roy was convinced that Maes and Riza had been watching Ed, and only allowed for this meeting with Hakuro when Ed had recovered enough to reassure them he could make it through, because they hadn't started talking about it until he'd been strong enough to make it down the hall unaided. He still had his crutch to hobble around with, refusing to even hear the word _wheelchair_ no matter how gently any of the soldiers tried to bring it up, and in fact seemed content to hobble around for the rest of his life if it meant he'd never have to let himself be pushed and wheeled around ever again.

Maes had, a few times, carefully suggested that they might be able to get Ed over to see a military doctor to help him get his automail limbs back.

Once again, Ed had barely let him get the word _doctor_ out of his mouth before he'd shoved himself out of his chair and hobbled away, not even willing to so much as heart the rest of the request out.

For his part, Roy knew that he wanted Ed to have his automail limbs back. He knew it'd make Ed so much more secure, so much _happier_ to be able to defend himself and no longer need to depend upon other people to stay safe. But, looking down at the small, stubborn form by his side, painfully limping his way forward, one step at a time, he knew that he could never ask Ed to see a doctor to do it.

Riza, Havoc, and the others marched them along, moving as quickly as possible and again bringing them past yet _another_ checkpoint. Roy was beginning to suspect they were serving as literal bodyguards while Maes and Al were more along the lines of moral support.

Again, the mere fact that they might end up _needing_ moral support made Roy far more apprehensive than anything else thus far.

"This way," Riza ordered tersely, holstering her weapon to stride straight for the nearest elevator, hammering the button with a quick, violent stab of a finger. "Quickly."

Roy shared another worried look with Ed, standing down by his side. Now, almost by second nature, he settled a protective hand over Ed's shoulder, and allowed them to be shepherded into the elevator without another word.

Riza, Maes, and Al went with them. The blonde exchanged a few quick words with- with _his_ men, if they were all to be believed- too quiet for him to hear, but whatever the orders were, they received a quick salute, and then, Havoc led them to all but scurry away, just before the elevator doors shut. Silently, Riza again pushed the button, this time for them to rise, and another unsettling sort of quiet fell.

"...so," Ed coughed. "You keep telling us all there's no reason to be worried. Then... is there any sort of reason for all the cloak and dagger stuff, then, or...?"

Roy smiled weakly down at Ed, shifting a little closer to his side. _Yes,_ he thought, _I'd like to know that as well._

By his side, Maes grimaced, sharing a tense sort of look with Riza before pushing his glasses up instead... conveniently hiding his face, and whatever troubled shadow was crossing his expression. "We really don't think there's anything to be worried about," he murmured after a moment, pushing his glasses up again. "But the military likes to throw surprises into things when we least expect it. Not to _mention_ we all would prefer to keep you out of the public eye until we've found the people who did this to you... I'm sure we'll all just little better when we're back at your aunt's place tonight."

Roy frowned to himself again. How... delightfully unsettling.

To his surprise, though, for one of the first times since they'd left the car, Al made a small noise from behind them, nudging a little closer to his brother. "I know you said no, but, are you _sure_ just taking them to Risembool wouldn't be safer? Winry could take care of them, we could even get Brother his automail back without making him see a doctor- we'd be so safe there! We could even-"

"No," Riza cut in flatly, shaking her head. "Unfortunately, at this time, we need to weigh security concerns over all else. Risembool is out east, where most of the rebel activity is concentrated. Additionally, given the difficulty of leaving the city at this time, we would attract attention. When we're trying to keep you both hidden, that is the last of what we need."

Roy winced a little. So they were staying under the controlling thumb of her security detail, then. Exactly what he'd expected... and, exactly what he'd wanted to avoid.

But it was _Ed_ who looked most disappointed by her words, that slight ember of hope set alight in his eyes by his brother's words doused by what might as well have been an ice storm. He opened his mouth, even, as if wanting to protest- but then, staring up at Riza's calmly turned back, shoulder set and hands folded in an unwavering, absolutely uncompromising stance... and his young face just fell, and disappointment clouded over it so miserably that, for a moment, Roy just wanted to hug him.

It wasn't hard to understand, either.

Because Roy- for all that he didn't like still being controlled and guarded so stringently... well. Roy was _home._ He was staying with his adoptive mother, and seemingly an _army_ of his sisters, and Havoc, and Breda, and Falman, and Fuery, and Riza, and Maes. He remember blue and that was his family, and they _all_ were his family- and they weren't all of it. The city was crawling with _his_ blue. This military base, right here, right now, was stuffed full of it. His blue was a thousand or more strong and he could barely open his eyes without finding someone he knew was on his side.

And, Ed had... Al.

That was it.

Ed had Al, and his home remained dozens of miles away, and his family remained there, in this Risembool.

Roy had his entire family and his whole home right here, while Ed was still being told he couldn't have his.

Slowly, his throat tight, he curled his hand a little tighter around Ed's shoulder, searching for something to say. He wished they could be alone for at least a moment or two, just one minute before they had to be shoved into this meeting.

In front of them, however, right out of the corner of his eye, he saw Maes gently nudge at Riza's side. Just that, just a nudge, no words at all- but it got Riza to look at him, brow furrowing, and then turn back around a little more to look down at Ed. Her steady, hard eyes landed down on the kid, unwavering for just a second more- until, like butter, she softened.

"It's not for very long," she said quietly, turning back to face the elevator doors. "We're working as hard as we can to resolve this. We don't have power over all of it, but... but once you're safe, we'll try to look at getting you home to Risembool. I can't promise it'll work, Edward, but- we'll try. I can promise you that we'll try."

Then, as if on cue, the elevator doors slid open with a quiet _ding._ Riza straightened her posture and re-focused her attention forward, smooth mask already sliding back into place like an impassive shield.

But the look on Ed's face told him that that the promise had been enough. It wasn't concrete, there was no upcoming trip to Risembool assured or on its way- but they were going to at least try, and, by the tentative, little smile that eased its way onto his face then, it seemed that that, for Ed, was enough.

Riza again led the way, this time out onto the tenth floor, and this time out onto a landing that was mostly deserted. The only others Roy saw here were two soldiers standing guard outside a broad set of double doors, fancy enough to indicate somebody very important- and sure enough, those were the two doors that Riza brought them to.

"Lieutenant Hawkeye," she announced, coming to a sharp halt. "We have an appointment scheduled with General Hakuro at 0700."

One soldier knocked promptly on the door, while the other inspected them somewhat hesitantly, seeming particularly thrown off by Al before lingering on him and Ed instead, frowning as if he wasn't sure to make of them. Did he recognize them? Did he know that he and Ed had been missing for months? Were _supposed_ to be still missing now? Was _Roy_ supposed to know _him?_

Slowly, uncomfortably, Roy met the soldier's eyes, trying to feign a sense of familiarity. He forced the most sure- and probably awkward- smile that he could.

The soldier jumped, turning very abruptly away like he'd been shocked to blink straight ahead, as if he'd never so much as glanced in their direction at all, and Roy's smile faltered.

So... he probably didn't know him, then.

Thank god, the moment of discomfort was sliced clean through when there was a call for them to enter from inside the office, and any and all attention there'd ever been on Roy in the first place was thrown forwards. The same soldier who'd been staring at Roy instead moved to swiftly open the doors for them, still without ever even blinking back in his direction, and once again, before he'd even had time to think, Maes and Riza were all but tugging them forwards into the office, and the door was swung shut behind them.

Ed tensed again the moment the heavy door clicked into place. Roy felt it under his hand, and then saw it just a second later, looking surreptitiously down to see Ed's face drawn again, the kid staring nervously over his shoulder and almost _trembling._ Trembling, Roy knew, because he didn't like that door shut. Trembling because he didn't like the suddenly confined space. Trembling, because he suddenly no longer had the freedom he so desperately needed, and had been deprived of for so long, to _run._

A dark irritation squirmed angrily in the pit of his stomach. He'd told them to keep doors open for Ed, hadn't he? That he didn't like being shut in? To make sure he always had the freedom and safety to run? Narrowing his eyes, Roy started to turn back, finally pulling his hand off the kid's shoulder to move back to prop open the door again himself.

Only for somebody to stomp hard on his foot.

Roy scowled severely, flinching back around with all the betrayal of a kicked puppy. _"What?"_ he hissed, starting to glower back to Maes, only for his friend to stomp down on his foot _again._ Yanking his foot away, he continued on, "What the hell do you _want-"_

But Maes was not looking at him. Maes, his jaw clenched, eye twitching, stood stock still by his side, looking straight ahead and right hand raised in a salute. _...What? Okay, then..._ Frowning, he turned towards Riza instead- only to find her standing in exactly the same position as Maes...

And Roy's skin was prickling, with the very uncomfortable sensation of being stared at.

He fidgeted around again. He blinked.

For the first time, he actually grasped that he was standing in a spacious, well-furnished office, a rich green and white flag display in the corner that niggled quietly at the corners of his mind as familiar and an older man sitting quietly at a desk, center stage, that did _not_ strike him as familiar. He was clearly a soldier, wearing the same uniform as all the rest, and an important one at that, said uniform significantly more bedecked with golden stripes and shiny medals than any others that Roy had seen, even having an assistant who was waiting straight-backed and impassive behind him. He was also currently busying himself with staring expectantly, silently, right up at Roy.

All right, he was definitely not imagining it _this_ time, right? He had to know him. There was no other reason-

"O-oh," he started, suddenly realizing what he was supposed to do. He jerked his hand up into a salute, thankful it was his right instead of his sore, still healing left, trying to glance surreptitiously to Maes to mimic him as best as he could. Next to him, he could just glimpse out of the corner of his eye Ed struggling to do the same.

The general blinked. He continued to stare up at Roy, for just long enough for the silence to turn from uncomfortable to downright awkward.

Then, making a face, he dropped his face into his hand, and groaned.

"I apologize for calling your amnesia tale ludicrous, Hughes," he said, the words muffled into his hand. "It is already apparent you were telling the truth, and it hasn't yet been five minutes. At ease.

Beside him, Maes and Riza dropped their arms in unison, their expressions twin masks of impassivity... although Maes' foot seemed to be getting twitchy again. Roy's face warmed, and no matter how quickly he tried to jerk his arm down to follow theirs, it was patently obvious he was mimicking them- that he had no idea what he was actually doing.

That Maes and Riza belonged here, and he did not.

It took Ed even longer to lower his arm than it had Roy, the motion slow and awkward and his face uncertain. By the faint crease of annoyance on Hakuro's face, that hadn't gone missed by him, either.

The general let out a long, impatient sort of sigh, folding his hands on the desk before him and narrowing his eyes to look between him and Ed. The inspection was obvious, and the intent made his skin crawl. Ed inched a little closer to him, tensing again, and once again, Roy could not blame him.

"I'll be blunt," Hakuro said at last. "I have seven meetings scheduled after yours, and that's all before lunch. I'm not going to ask you repeat everything that you've already told Lieutenant Colonel Hughes... I presume the report will be accurate enough for me to just read myself."

Maes nodded, the smile Roy had grown so reliant on now gone from his face. "Yes, sir."

Hakuro grimaced again. "In that case, all I wanted from today was to see you for myself, as well as confirm a few details... although..." His gaze swept Roy up and down for a moment, inquisitive and piercing, and, for just a glimpse of a moment, hopeful. "Colonel Mustang, you look to be in good enough health. Hughes informed me you weren't confident with your alchemy, but- to be blunt, are you sure? Your skills are a true asset, and, given your condition... well, accommodations could be made, if we were to deploy you to active duty." He smiled a little, just one small gesture of persuasiveness, and spread his hands out over his desk, open and trusting. "All we ask is that you are able to aim and control your alchemy."

Next to him, again, Maes stiffened. So did Riza.

And Roy wasn't sure what was going on, or being hinted at- but it wasn't hard to guess that he wasn't supposed to like this.

"I..." He clenched his jaw again, squinting down to his own hand by his side, curling and flexing it. His gloves were still in his pocket, a warm, reassuring, and familiar weight, but his hand remained bare, pale and badly scarred under the fluorescent lights of the office. It still hurt. It hurt every day. It was aching and sore and weak- and that was when it _wasn't_ burned, from his pathetic attempts to control his own alchemy.

His heart sunk again.

He was still useless... no matter how much he wanted to say otherwise.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, finding himself abruptly helpless but to stare down at his own shined boots. "I've tried. ...I can't do it."

There was a long-suffering, disappointed sigh. Roy's face burned in shame again. He felt about two fucking inches tall.

"...what about me?" Ed spoke up suddenly, limping a heavy _thud_ of a step forward. "I'm a State Alchemist too, aren't I?"

There was a short, sudden laugh, the general waving his hand dismissively at Ed and relaxing into a gold sort of grin for the first time all meeting. "Oh, we're not concerned about you, Fullmetal," he said, marking something down on a file. "I just have to look at you- you'd be a liability on the field. Automail normally takes months to adjust to, right? This'll all be ended by then... one way or another."

Ed's eyes flamed, face flushing red the same was Roy was sure his own had but in an igniting anger rather than shame."But I-" he started, thudding another limped step forward, but Hakuro was already talking over him like he didn't even exist.

"In that case," the general went on, waving a hand again, "the military's focus lies on the rest of what Lieutenant Colonel Hughes told us you reported." He went quiet for a moment, glancing dispassionately down at the file on his desk- and then, once more, to Ed. His easygoing smile faded into a tense sort of frown. "Specifically, Fullmetal's role, in transmuting gold for the rebels."

The kid withered like a switch had been flipped, melting right back into Roy's side, and stiffened. Roy stiffened right with him.

"It wasn't his fault," he said staunchly. "They forced him to. You can't punish him for something he had no choice in."

But Hakuro just grimaced, face creasing with exasperation as if he barely had the patience to listen to his defense, never mind actually worry about it. "It's apparent his actions were under duress, but, quite honestly, our focus is not and will never be on prosecuting one of our strongest alchemists. We're far more worried about just what that gold was being used for, and just who was forcing you to make it."

There was a short, unsettled sort of silence. Hakuro steepled his fingers together over his desk, brow creasing again, and for a moment looked just as serious and grave as Maes and Riza had all day long.

"You said your-"

The desk phone set off ringing, high-pitched and pealing and the most sudden, unwanted interruption possible. Even Hakuro looked annoyed, letting out a heavy sigh as he grabbed it to yank it to his ear, glowering at nothing. "General Hakuro," he barked. "I'm busy at the-... what...?"

Roy glanced uncertainly back at the others, and wasn't entirely surprised to find Maes and Riza barely disguising their own impatience. Even Ed looked a little calmer, although that was a glass half full sort of view, because it was obvious he still would rather be anywhere but here.

Roy shared the sentiment.

"...well I'll direct a few extra squads your way. The blockade on 7th, you said?" He scribbled something down, still frowning, the nodded to himself as he listened to whoever was on the phone. "Hold the line for another hour." Then he hung up, handing the note to his secretary in the same breath, and, with an obvious effort, refocused his attention back on them. "I'm sorry, where- yes, of course. Justin."

Ed made a small noise, so small it was barely even a noise at all, seeming to stiffen into almost a statue by his side. Roy felt something in him go cold, and again, shared the kid's sentiments to be simply anywhere but here.

"No last name? " Hakuro pressed, frowning between the two of them. "No other identifying factors? I've already looked at the description you gave Lieutenant Colonel Hughes; you have nothing more to add?"

"I... no. I don't, at least," Roy mumbled reluctantly. "They were always very careful to keep as much information from us as possible."

Ed nodded as well, his face troubled. "Yeah. I'm not even sure Justin was his real name. But- but what about the others? Hughes said they arrested the nurses! They were in on it, they should know everything you want to know!"

The response to this, however, was another unhappy shadow of exasperation. "You would think," Hakuro murmured. He settled himself back in his command chair, frowning darkly down to the wood grains with a deeply troubled sort of frown. "Unfortunately, we've been interrogating them for two weeks, now, and it seems as if they were used as pawns. They don't appear to know anything more about this Justin than you do."

Roy tensed again. So... they'd been real nurses, then. Susan and Ann. All they'd wanted to do, all they had been _trying_ to do, was to help them.

He thought of how he'd found Ed, so many times huddled and shivering under a blanket. How many nights he had to have spent by himself before Roy had even gotten there, tied to a bed in the dark and screaming for a reprieve or mercy that would never come. He thought of how scared he'd been, so frightened he'd barely been able to talk to him, never mind put his abject terror into words. He thought of the padded room and straitjacket he _knew_ they'd locked Ed in against his consent, and the terrified, broken state he'd found him in after it.

He didn't really much care, he decided, if those two had _thought_ they'd been helping them.

"With all due respect, sir," Maes cut in harshly, barely even waiting for Hakuro to stop, "I hope this doesn't mean you're letting them go without charges. They did a hell of a lot to these two that is can't be excused or handwaved aside just because they were being lied to, too."

The general sighed heavily again. "It's one of many things that's being considered. However, as I said, my focus is currently on this Justin's identity. ...that is- I think we now _know_ his identity."

...they what?

Just like that?

They knew who he was?

They'd found him?!

"...Oh," he said numbly, suddenly cold and shaken from the inside out, and this time, he was the one to draw a little closer to Ed.

Hakuro cleared his throat, flipping open a file that had already been waiting on his current disaster of a desk to read aloud, his eyes narrowed. "We're still looking into it. We're not sure. But for now, it's looking as if our best lead is a State Alchemist, from 1870: Daniel Everson. The Memory Alchemist."

"Dr. Everson?!" Al suddenly exclaimed, speaking up for the first time in this entire meeting. Roy blinked back around at the suit of armor, and Ed was already drawing closer to him, but Al's attention was on Hakuro instead of his brother in what was perhaps a first out of all that Roy had ever seen from him. "We studied his work when we were kids! He had so many papers on alchemy of the mind- remember, Brother, we thought he might've been onto something we could use for-"

He cut himself off abruptly, a small noise in his throat that guided the words straight into silence. Roy wasn't sure if it was the realization of what he'd just said, or the withdrawn, almost guilty sort of look mired on Ed's face that had silenced his brother. Either one seemed likely enough, given how suddenly apologetic he looked, then quickly looked away, strangely nervous in a way Roy never thought he'd have been able to see a suit of armor look. "I... I mean..."

"...Yes," Hakuro coughed awkwardly after a short stretch of silence. "Well. He was before my time- before all of our times- but it didn't take my men too much searching in the archives to key in on him. Given that there seems to have some involvement with the State Alchemy program, and an alchemist who has some experience with memory, he was our first lead."

Al moved forward again, taking his place beside his brother as if he'd never even left it. "But- but, sir? I've been researching neuro-alchemy for weeks now, and Dr. Everson's work wasn't advanced enough for something like this. At least, nothing he published. I'm not so sure he was in the right field for this, anyway... the paper for his certification was on memory and trauma."

"All that aside," Maes said suddenly, "isn't there a more direct problem? You said he was licensed in 1870. Roy told us this person was only a little older than he was... anyone licensed in 1870 would be ancient by now, if he was still alive in the first place."

Roy frowned, struggling to drag his reluctant memories back to- to _that place._ Trying see Justin's face again, to remember, to try and force his memories to fit what he was now being told. But it felt like they were lurching anxiously against a slowly forming wall, now- like the further he got from that place the faster he wanted to run away from it, and he was just far removed from it now to not even let himself remember it anymore. The room with the array felt panicky and clouded with smoke in his memory, Justin's face fleeting in and out of it, the memory tasting more of the pain in his chafed, restrained wrists and the agony in his beaten hands than his eyes and face and hair.

Nevertheless- Maes was right. 1870 was a good forty years ago, and if he'd been licensed then, he was surely a few decades older than that. While it was harder and harder now to grasp what that man's face had been like, he was fairly certain he would've remembered their tormentor being a frail old man.

The general, however, grimaced again, barely even glancing up at Maes as he instead focused all his attention down on the file spread out on his desk. "Yes," he grunted. "Particularly because the Memory Alchemist passed away several years ago... which is why we instead turned our focus to his son: Justin Everson, born 1880, and rejected applicant to the State Alchemy program three years ago."

...Ah.

That... that fit quite a lot closer, actually.

"Dare I ask why he was rejected, sir?"

Hakuro glanced dispassionately at Riza's cold question, wariness darkening his eyes again. "I didn't quite understand the incident report myself. My alchemist secretary says that in his certification demonstration, he claimed to have an array that would be able to completely wipe someone's memory. The military was interested, given the propensity for its uses in warfare and at home, but since its demonstration required a test on another human, had an already certified alchemist examine it first... apparently, his array would require human transmutation to work." His mouth tightened a little, pen tapping a slight, arrhythmic cadence against his desk. "He was dismissed. We don't have interest in an array that would kill the user, and we really did not have an interest in an alchemist who thought such an array would impress us." He paused again, gaze lingering on him and down to Edward in a way that was almost... uncomfortable. "It seems he has since perfected that array."

Roy's skin crawled, and once again, he found himself wanting desperately to withdraw from that analytical gaze, the way it eyed him like a lab rat. Perhaps to behind Maes, or perhaps all the way back to his aunt's so he could find Maes' jacket again and bury himself in it, and not have to think about any of this ever again. He forced a nod, even as unsteady as it was, and this time, was perfectly happy to remain silent.

And then, Ed snorted, facing that same delicate silence and taking a hammer straight to it, so bluntly it made him feel almost stupid for feeling nervous at all. "You think?" he snapped, tilting his head fiercely, and Roy imagined that Ed was simply lucky he was out of range of Maes' foot stomping of rebukes.

The general sighed tersely again, hand lifting up to massage his forehead. _"Anyway,"_ he groaned, and Roy felt a stab of sympathy for any of Ed's future superior officers, "it only gets more concerning from here. Apparently, he did not take his immediate rejection well... he became violent, and had to be removed from the building. Apparently only his father's prestige and connections saved him from charges being filed."

"...Perhaps it would have been better," Riza said quietly, somewhat disdainfully, "if they had."

"Yes, and perhaps it would've been better if we'd let him try his crackpot array out that day and he'd ended up killing himself," Hakuro deadpanned, irritation pulsing in his brow again. "We did not, and here is where we are instead."

There was another unhappy sort of pause, the general tapping his fingers impatiently still on his desk, glare alternating from the wood grains of his desk to the spread out folder before he frowned up at them all, gaze carefully resting on each and every one of them. It seemed as if they were moving a different sort of discussion now, with the general even more reluctant to pursue this one than he had been the one before it.

"This next part," he said at last, "I probably shouldn't be telling any of you. To be frank, however- this, too, was before my time, and I'm disturbed enough to find out this program ever existed at all. Fuhrer Bradley is also still nowhere to be seen to give a gag order, and to be frank about that, too, I'm getting tired of running interference for him when this ragtag army of rebels gets closer to Central by the day. So you- you lucky... five..." His gaze lingered uncertainly on Al, "you get to hear the un-redacted version."

"...You mean the entire affair of State Alchemists transmuting gold," Maes said flatly.

Hakuro grimaced darkly again. "Exactly."

There was a brief pause again, this time filled with what felt like every eye in the room on him and Ed. Roy, for about the tenth time this day, seriously wondered what he was doing here, and seriously missed his room back at his aunt's bar.

"As far as I can tell," Hakuro began at length, "the program was discontinued, because I was completely unaware of and very disturbed by the apparent loophole that allows our State Alchemists to transmute gold. Well, either the program was discontinued, or it's gone on under the table... there aren't very many high ranking State Alchemists left to ask about it, thanks to Scar. Regardless, you should know that I'll be opening a full investigation into this as soon as possible, to determine how many alchemists might have abused this and under whose direction... and we'll be starting with the late Memory Alchemist." He shrugged easily, letting the top folder on his desk fall limply shut. "There aren't really many other theories as to where his son could've learned he could exploit State Alchemists from besides him."

Roy nodded slowly, first glancing at Maes to gauge his reaction to it then back down at Ed. This wasn't bad news, right? Still investigating what had happened to them, not seeming to blame him or Ed for what had happened, the subject all but dropped about whether or not they could pull him and Ed into the ongoing fighting... surely this was at least going better than he knew it could've been.

And then, Riza cleared her throat, clasping her hands neatly behind her back again, and stepped forward. "I'm glad the investigation is making progress, but, with all due respect, sir, we have yet to address our primary problem."

Again, the general frowned, and his tired gaze drifted back onto Roy and Ed. "Right," he said stiffly. "What exactly we're going to do with these two in the meantime."

Oh. Right.

Wonderful.

Because the many eyes right back on him and Ed didn't make him feel uncomfortable or nervous at all.

"Well," Hakuro began. "While I'm ordering you both see a military physician as soon as possi-"

"I don't fucking think so!"

"Edward, _please-"_

"No! _No!_ You can't make-"

"I- I only intended to-"

The general's phone interrupted _again,_ pealing sharply into the growing argument, and Hakuro all but growled as he snatched it up, yanking it back to his ear. " _What?"_

Roy, however, was already turning away, and Ed with him. He'd heard enough. "Come on, Fullmetal," he ordered, hand back on his shoulder and panic so suddenly growing it felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. "We're going."

Maes and Riza looked suddenly alarmed, trying to stop them, but Ed was right there with him, his face young and scared and a fear burning into his eyes that made his heart clench. Roy left one hand tight on his shoulder as the other dug into his pocket, finding his glove on instinct alone, and still burned fingers already itching to snap.

He wasn't going to let this man force either of them to any doctor or hospital in the world. He wasn't going to fucking let that happen. He wasn't forcing him, and he was not, ever, not _once_ getting close enough to lay a single hand on Ed.

They were getting out of here, _right now,_ and if anyone tried to stop them- if his Maes or his Riza or Ed's Al tried to stop them-

Panic again tried to close his throat shut, and Roy forcefully shut down that thought process before it could careen to its natural end. He couldn't grasp the dichotomy of his family being the ones to force him right back into that hell so he wouldn't let it happen.

Maes wouldn't let it happen if he understood. He- he _had_ to trust Maes, if he couldn't trust Maes, then-

Roy reached the door, panic and shaken horror closing around his heart and Ed trembling right by his side. He reached for the knob, blocking out Maes' concerned voice, and Al moving for them, and Riza's worry, and focused instead on Fullmetal, and the inches away between them and freedom.

The lights went out.

Roy, his gloved hand still clenched anxiously around the knob, froze. There was an immediate, shocked silence.

He glanced down at Ed, the alchemist wide-eyed and just as surprised as he was, and jerkily pivoted back around to stare at the newly changed office. Maes and Al both looked just as surprised as he was, blinking at the sudden darkness, while Riza had a hand on her gun, stance tense and sharp eyes suddenly doubting all over the office.

"-and that... hello?" Hakuro queried unsteadily into the phone. "Sergeant? ...Can you hear me?"

By the look on his face, Roy determined, no- the sergeant over the phone could not hear him.

Hakuro's frown grew deeper.

"...I'm... sure it's just a power outage," he murmured, lowering the phone to hang up what had evidently turned into just a dial tone. He looked no less convinced than anyone else by this argument than anyone else in the room. With a slight cough, he reached out, trying to turn on the lamp resting on his desk.

Darkness continued to swallow the office, and the general looked increasingly uncertain.

A low, deep rumble then shuddered through the room, gentle and ominous, like a boom of thunder or an earthquake down on the ground, so sudden and troubling it made his stomach lurch, Ed stumble straight closer into his side- and the general's scowl to deepen even more.

"What is this-" he barked, to essentially no one but himself, then just simply stormed on, brushing aside them all to shove open his office door himself into a similarly darkened hallway. "Private! What is the meaning of..."

Except the two soldiers who'd quietly stood guard outside his office, just mere minutes before, had multiplied into ten, and the standard procedure vigil had transformed into a breathless combat battalion that looked to have been about half a second from battering the door straight down for themselves.

"Sir," the one in the lead panted, face pale and strained but the rifle in his hands steady and surely ready to fire. "Sir- it's the rebels. They're here. They've... they've made it to HQ."


	27. Chapter 27

That one announcement was all that it took for everything to immediately devolve into absolute chaos.

Nobody paid attention to Ed anymore, which he was grateful for, because so far today his luck had been pretty sour when the focus of the room had been on him, but everything else was such a mess it was nerve-wracking enough as it was. Soldiers running in and out of the room, brushing aside him like he was a piece of trash, and Roy was not much better, the bastard trying to speak up once or twice but simply being talked right over, and no attention being paid to either of them whatsoever.

Ed wouldn't have even minded that part of it so much, if the full, horrible reality of this situation wasn't already becoming readily apparent:

The rebels were _here._

This literal fucking military base was under attack, by a literal fucking squad of angry terrorists- and if everything he'd heard today was to be believed, Justin was among them.

He wanted to go home.

More accurately, if he _didn't_ get to get out of here soon, he was probably going to faint from a goddamn heart attack, and he was going to like it, because he'd rather be unconscious than fighting a losing battle against the panic in his chest and the thundering, crashing realization that it wasn't over. It wasn't over. That- that _man_ could find them again. They were here and he was out there and he was _coming,_ he knew they were here, he knew they'd broken the rules and been bad and he was going to find them again and leave him back in that little padded room and he'd never get out again and-

"Calm down, Fullmetal," the bastard ordered quietly, guiding him back to his side with one strong, still gloved hand. One on his shoulder, and another one drifting possessively to his back, curling twitchily like a shuddering bowstring pulled taut and about to snap. "We'll be fine," he promised again.

Ed knew, however, that Roy was not in a position to make that promise.

He wanted out of here. He wanted to take Roy and Al and run. He wanted to be back in his room at Roy's aunt's bar, or hundreds of miles away in Risembool, yeah, that was good, _hundreds of miles_ out of here, but that- that wouldn't even be enough, would it? Hundreds of miles wouldn't stop him. Thousands of miles wouldn't stop him. He'd found them here after all, hadn't he? He knew he'd broken the rules and he was going to kill Roy just like he'd promised and then Ed would wake up back in that straitjacket in that cell and he would never, ever, _ever_ get out...

"Fullmetal, _stop,"_ and then Roy's face was in his, bleached pale but black eyes hard and the hand on his shoulder even tighter. "Listen to me. He won't find us. He won't get to us. And he'll never, _ever_ , touch you again. Okay?"

"You d-don't- you can't promise- can't _stop-"_

"Fullmetal," he ordered, now for the third time, and instead of on his back one hand moved his face, cold but strong and _there-_ and the other one, held reassuringly in between them, with the glove, and its array, facing Ed.

"Fullmetal. I _can_ promise- and I _am:_ nobody is going to be able to so much as touch you that you don't want to. Do you understand? I've got this. I've- I've got _you._ Okay? You understand, Fullmetal?" He flexed his hand a little, curling it as if a warning, as if he was just about to snap, and then, still looking him right in the eye, he gave him a reassuring smile.

Ed's heart continued to hammer sickeningly away, so fast and hard he almost wanted to throw up. His pulse kept pounding in his ears and his mind kept racing with _what if_ and his arm was already starting to tingle and burn with the memory of what it'd been like, and oh god he wanted nothing more than to hide and never face any of this again.

But slowly, stiffly, all but paralyzed with the terror of it, he nodded.

Roy hadn't let him down yet.

At that moment, Roy's Hawkeye marched straight to them, the smaller pistol so usually on hand with her suddenly traded out for a longer rifle with an extra ammo belt or three. She marched straight for them, or rather, straight for Roy, and stood there before them with folded arms, her sharp eyes inspecting them up and down in an analytical sweep, every detail acknowledged, every factor taken in.

Roy tried for a weak, uncertain sort of a smile. She frowned severely right back.

"You still stay here, sir. Edward, you still also stay here, with him. Do you understand?" She stared them both up and down again, glare so piercing it was dangerous, and advanced yet another step forward. "I am being ordered to lead a sniper battalion on the roof, while Lieutenant Colonel Hughes will shortly take command of a line of defense on the ground floor- the safest place for you to remain is in this room. You will not open the door. You will not burn up your sanity in a cockamamie scheme to assist in the fight. You will not, for any other reason that I have yet to cover, _leave this spot_ until it is all clear, is that understood?"

Roy gulped. Slowly, almost jerkily, he nodded.

Once again, Ed was with him. As unhappy and skittish as he was to be forced to sit out on the action- fuck, that certainly beat throwing himself into the thick of it without an arm or a leg.

And it _certainly_ beat throwing himself into the thick of it where he could get separated from Roy or Al.

The lieutenant glanced them both up and down again, sharp eyes clearly analyzing for any signs of deceit.

Then, with an unerring air of calmness, she knelt down to his eye level, brought her hand back to her pistol, and pressed it firmly right into his chest. "For protection," she told him steadily, her warm fingers spreading warmly over his heart in a startling contrast to the gun, cold as ice, and her eyes, hot as simmering coals. "The colonel has his gloves, so you need something, too. I know I can trust you to use this responsibly, Edward. You- you might not know or remember it, but I do, so let that be enough, for now: promise me that if you have to, you'll use it."

Ed stared back at her, nerves clashing with wonderment, this time, and leaving him at a loss for words. He looked down at the cold gun, still pressed reassuringly into his new and scratchy uniform, entirely foreign and strange and he'd never held one before, at least he- he didn't _think_ s0- but it was there, being offered freely, and by the look in the lieutenant's eyes, he knew he was trusted to handle it.

And he couldn't lie, either.

If Roy had his gloves, then he damn well wanted to something to defend himself with, too.

He _wasn't_ fucking useless.

Slowly, with one firm nod, he wrapped his hand around the gun and accepted it. It didn't feel any more comfortable or recognizable once he had his hand on it, heavy and hard as he slowly folded his fingers around it... but it was simple enough, right? Just- just aim and shoot.

If Roy could figure out his gloves, surely he could manage _that_ much.

"Promise, Lieutenant," he swore quietly, settling the cold gun back down by his side. "I've got this."

Hawkeye remained knelt down before him, watching him with worried eyes as if searching him for any sign that he might not be ready for this. Her gaze swept over him once, twice, careful and analyzing, until something finally shifted in her, and her stern features softened into the smallest of smiles. "Good boy," she said warmly, patting him firmly on the shoulder- and something strange and... and _familiar_ settled over him.

It was the same words that he remembered from the nurses. All the time, every day, a smile and saccharine sweet words that waved his words aside and saw him as nothing more than a stupid, foolish child to be ignored. It was the same words in his ears, it was the same hand on his shoulder- the _exact_ same- but then, it _wasn't_. Those nurses had patted him on the head and told him good boy like he was a dog or a two year old to be patronized, but Hawkeye-

She looked at him like he was an equal. She looked at him like she trusted him.

He may not have remembered her, but, he realized, as a steady warmth grew around his heart and collected around the still coursing panic, she remembered him.

With one steady, confident nod, Hawkeye patted his shoulder again, warm and steady, and then she pushed herself straight up to turn towards Roy instead. "And _you._ You'll do the same, sir, do you understand me? You'll remain here and protect yourselves at any cost, but you will _remain here,_ is that clear, Colonel?"

"Y- yes, ma'am?"

Her eyes narrowed again, a deadly sort of examination for truthfulness, and though whatever she found in him finally satisfied her, she clearly remained suspicious. "Then I'll see you again shortly, sir," she said, promptly saluting, rifle back to her side. "And if that is any sooner than before the end of this fight and we have returned here to collect you, it will not be a fond meeting."

And then, without even waiting to be dismissed, she snapped her hand down to her side, turned her back, and marched right out of the darkened office at a brisk, disciplined military jog, on the heels of so many other soldiers, and Ed was left alone with Roy, Hughes, his brother, and the gun.

He was not, of course, left alone and unbothered for long.

Because Hughes was next, right away taking the lieutenant's place before them and giving them both a steady, sharp sort of grin. "You, my friend," he said, "are also taking _this,"_ and with a flash of steel a push dagger was pressed into Roy's grip, their hands grasped together even as his grin faded into a steady, tense line. "I know this seems hectic, but everything'll be fine, all right? You'll be safe up here. You'll see- no one's getting in here and before you know it, we'll be out of here, and you'll be fine... both of you will. Okay?" He glanced down reassuringly at Ed, giving him the same sort of calming smile Hawkeye had tried for, then re-focused back on Roy, this time with a gentle sort of slap to his cheek. "Now- Roy?"

The bastard scowled a little, looking somewhat like a petulant child, and even to Ed, it looked just a little bit like his face started to flush red. " _What,_ Maes?"

"You recall how I told you I was going to kill you for hitting Gracia as soon as you were better, right?"

"...y-yeah?"

The lieutenant colonel grinned sharply again. "Well, that's still true. However- if I so much as find you one step outside of his room, you are not going to live long enough to get murdered by me for _that."_

Then, his sharp grin softened into a warmer smile, and he reached out swiftly to tug his friend into a brief, one-armed hug. He knelt down to Ed's level, just like Hawkeye had, and did the same for him, one very brief, very gentle hug that ended with a soft pat on his side, and a conspiratorial sort of wink. "Look after him for me, okay? I'm sure you've realized, even as he's tried to hide it- but he can really use it, sometimes."

"Maes. _Really._ I do not-"

"Except, you really, _really_ do. Both of you do." Hughes stood back, hands on his hips, gazing over them both as if to evaluate how truly ready they were- and then, smile already fading back into a tense line, hand already going to the radio clipped to his belt, he turned to follow Hawkeye's run out of the office.

Then, not even a second later, he poked his head right back into the office to point straight at Roy's face. "And both of you, stay _away_ from the windows! You hear me? _Away!"_

And with that, he was gone, and Ed and Roy were both left blinking and all but agape behind.

Ed glanced blankly up at the bastard, and again some of the nervous tension fluttering through him was soothed by the amusedly shellshocked look on his face. It took several moments more, passed only by a few confused blinks, for the older alchemist finally managed to shake it off with an exasperated sigh, rubbing one gloved hand across his face while he moved to meet Ed's eyes. "How come everybody seems to expect me to run off all half cocked into a firefight? I'm no more eager to get involved in this than you are!"

Shaking his head, Ed limped himself a little more comfortably against the wall, leaning again into Roy's warmth and trying to steady the anxious trembling he could already feel growing in his hand. "Maybe because they know you're a bastard."

His pale face creased into another frown, gloved hand twitching as if in embarrassment, and Ed found himself just shaking his head and swallowing a snicker as he turned back to face his brother. "What do you think, Al, does Roy- ...Al...?"

Because his brother had not been listening to them bicker.

His brother, instead, was instead already fully wrapped up in redecorating the now deserted office.

And by redecorating, Ed meant busying himself with forcefully yanking the curtains out to cover ever inch of the wide windows, pulling bookcases and a heavy desk to scrape and screech over the polished floor, carving a steady array of scratches into it without any heed whatsoever. As Ed watched, his brother hauled one heavy piece of furniture after enough towards the door, each one setting up as a barricade or blockade of sorts-

To slow down the rebels if they made it up here.

That was why, Ed realized with a sobering, almost freezing wave of realization. That was why Al had torn part the office and put it back together again like a jigsaw puzzle, a haphazard interlocking blockade to create one last barrier against anyone who made their way up this high who they didn't want in.

Ed gulped, and drew a little nearer to Roy again.

When Al finally stood back to examine his handiwork, it was to a heavy, solid desk overturned on its side with a couch shoved up against it blocking the doors, such a mess Ed wasn't sure he could even climb over it and even if he could, it was obvious that door wasn't opening against that barricade. Then there was the heavy bookcases, their contents already half scattered all over the floor while the furniture itself was arranged closer to them, looming enough for them to hide it its shadows in one final, last ditch effort if someone got in here wanting to find them.

Somehow, all of the bravado that Hawkeye and Hughes' confidence had inspired began to flag under the dire, very obviously grim circumstances of what sort of nightmare they had just landed on. Another slow, subtle sort of boom rolled through the room, like a distant rumble of thunder, and once again, Ed's attention was was re-focused on the fact that the lights were still out.

Finally assured of all of his work, Al moved towards them again, making a small, uncertain sort of noise as he wrung his huge hands together. "I'm going to wait outside," he said at last, inching a step backwards, then forwards again, as if he couldn't decide whether to leave or to stay. "No one should even get all the way up here, they said the group didn't look big enough to even get inside, but- but just in case. You'll be safe if you stay here, and I'll guard the door from the outside just to make sure. No one'll be able to get in if I'm there."

He broke off for another worried pause, bright, soulfire eyes tracking over the both of them as if there was something more he wanted to say but couldn't figure out what it was. He wrung his hands together again, hesitant and fidgeting on the spot- and in him in that moment, just like he'd seen in Hawkeye's steady trust in him and Hughes' familiarity, he saw something that he recognized.

This time, however, he recognized it from himself.

He recognized the silent fear in his eyes that had possessed Ed so many times in that hospital, at the threat of being left alone.

Ed hesitated, something cold squirming in his stomach, and for the first time, felt something shift in him to recognize his brother as _his_ brother. Not somebody he knew only because his instincts demanded it, but because he could look at him and see someone that he consciously knew- as sure as he knew himself.

He was still scared.

But he could be strong for his brother.

''We'll be okay, Al," he had promised, arranging the steadiest smile on his face that he could. "Like you said, no one'll be able to get in here as long as you're in their way. So I'll- I'll be okay. Promise."

Al shifted uncertainly again.

Then, his metal face shifted into a beautiful, beaming smile, and that, evidently, was all his brother had needed to hear to reassure him, because with that, he walked straight for the wall- avoiding the barricaded and locked doors to instead neatly clap his hands, then press them to the plaster.

As Ed watched, the wall parted cleanly away for an opening just big enough for his brother to walk through so neatly and perfectly there was barely any crumbing dust or refuse left behind. Then, upon vanishing into the hallway, there was another clap- and the hole in the wall closed just as immediately and neatly as it had opened.

He blinked again.

God _damn_ this alchemy stuff was good.

And... and, with that...

They were alone.

He and Roy, alone in the now dark, ruined general's office, huddled up together hiding from the windows and pressing away from the door, with the distant booms and crashes and- gunfire, he finally realized, that was _gunfire-_ all there was to echo in their ears.

...

Yeah, he really didn't like this at all.

And it didn't matter, because, as he'd promised Al, he really didn't have any other choice but to sit here and bear it.

"So..." he mumbled at last, the words dragging themselves out after an unbearable, thick silence. He settled the freezing cold gun gingerly down on the floor to rub his eyes, as if that might somehow clear the storm growing in his head. "So- is this it, then? Are we just... do they just want us to _wait_ up here until it's over?"

Roy folded his arms, appearing just as distinctly uncomfortable with the idea as Ed suddenly found himself, then shuddered violently, as if he was trying to hold back a shiver but didn't do a very good job of it. "I'm sure that we'll be fine," he said pragmatically, but clearly with an effort; his dark eyes weren't even _looking_ at Ed this time, sweeping around the newly shadowed corners of the office as if something terrible or dangerous might leap out from them at any moment. "I'm sure we... I mean, of course we're safe. We're all the way up here on what, the tenth floor? And think of it this way, we've got a whole _army_ standing in between us and them. Come on, what's safer than that?"

"I dunno," Ed muttered back darkly, glaring to the floor. "But this is the same army that somehow missed this whole web of crazy terrorists sneaking into the city that was supposed to be on lockdown, _and_ somehow let them sneak all the way over here apparently without being caught or seen even once."

Roy's smile, with a gutwrenching sort of chill, faltered.

And Ed would've felt bad, because he hadn't meant to make him feel worse than he already did or scare him, but right there in that moment, the slowly escalating terror already squirming in his stomach was not letting him calm down. Because his words were the _truth._ He trusted Al and he trusted Roy, but the fact of it was that whoever the hell these people were had already wormed their way through the military's defenses to make it this far- why was he supposed to believe they wouldn't make it just a little further?

Why the hell was he supposed to believe this was all one great big fat coincidence that this happened _today,_ the very first time he and Roy had come out of hiding- and _now_ Justin came for HQ? Right when they got there, _now_ Justin decided to try and break his way in, and he was supposed to believe it was out of nowhere?

That he _wasn't_ coming here looking for them?

Oh, god, he was looking for them. He was on his way here right now, maybe already in the fucking building itself, and- and he was _looking_ for them. He knew they'd escaped and wanted them back. He'd told Ed if he disobeyed him or fought back that he'd kill Roy; he'd promised it and minced no words as he described how he'd systematically dismember him, one finger, one limb at a time. He'd told him Roy would die and- and he was going to wake up in _that room_ again- wasn't he? Wasn't he? He was going to wake up back in that straitjacket in that padded cell and this time he was _never_ getting out-

"Fullmetal? Fullmetal, are you- hey, calm down... it'll be all right..."

It was too late, he couldn't- he was never going to see Al or Roy again- Justin was going to take those memories away, too, wasn't he? He'd realize he'd messed up the first time, so he'd do whatever he'd done before all over again, but this time, he'd take _everything._ He'd wake up back there but this time he wouldn't remember Roy, he wouldn't even remember Al- he'd remember _none_ of what he'd escaped to, none of what we still had and the people who cared about him and wanted him safe, he wasn't going to remember _anything_ except that tiny white room and there was nothing, nothing, _nothing_ he could do about it-

"H-hey, um... Fullmetal...?"

"No," he gasped, shrugging the bastard's hand off when it was abruptly so much more than his racing, tumbling mind could handle. "No, you- shut up!" His skin was suddenly hot and crawling, an itchy sweat broken out over the back of his neck as he pushed forward, eyes darting around the room in an escalating panic. He was locked in. The door was locked and Al was guarding it from the outside, and it didn't matter that he was supposed to trust Al because the door was _locked_ and- and they weren't supposed to do that! They weren't supposed to lock him in places! He didn't _care_ that it was necessary; the door was shut and he couldn't get out!

He couldn't get out- he couldn't get out- _he couldn't he couldn't hecouldn't_

 _"Listen_ to me, Fullmetal," Roy hissed, one gloved hand clasping on his shoulder to swing him around, forcing them eye to eye and not allowing him to look anywhere but at him. "You're fine. They're not going to-"

"I want _out!_ I- I- _l-let me out of here!_ I c-can't- _I can't be in here! Let me out, let me OUT!"_

Roy stared at him for several moments more, dark eyes conflicted and desperate as he still clutched onto his shoulder with his one good hand, the weight of the knife from Hughes digging through his shirt and his fingers curled so tight he could feel them pressing into his back. He wanted to cry or scream or both, he wanted _out,_ he had to get out of here right right _RIGHT NOW,_ he could already feel the walls crushing in around him again...

Then, Roy's pale, shocked face crumpled, and next thing he knew, he'd been tugged tighter into a one-armed hug, one gloved hand burying into his hair to push his face into the bastard's shoulder, the other grabbing his shirt to pull him as close as he could possibly get.

"I'm sorry," he only vaguely heard, choked out by his ear as the gloved hand pushed his braid aside, rubbing gently on his back. "I'm sorry..." but the words were drowned out under the steadily growing roar in his head- and the steadily increasing distant crack of gunfire.

And Roy was still talking to him, the words and arms surrounding him closer than the walls, and for several frantic heartbeats Ed found himself too overwhelmed to even listen. But Roy was closer and stronger than the weight of the memories trying to crush him, shushing him quietly in his ear over and over, warmer and more present and _solid_ than the fluttering fear and encroaching terror, and, second by second, he fumbled his way back down to earth.

"It's okay, Fullmetal," was eased gently into his ear, over and over again. "You're not there anymore. It's okay."

But it wasn't okay.

It-

It just _wasn't._

After several moments, he finally managed one weak shake of his head, head and gaze still buried into the bastard's blue shoulder. "I w-want out _now,"_ was all he was able to stammer, was all that he meant, all that he _knew._ He couldn't wait until this was all over, he couldn't wait until Al came back in here to collect him when it was finally safe, he couldn't just sit here for _literal hours_ huddled into the corner staring at that locked door-

He didn't care how unsafe it was. It didn't matter to him how steady and sure and _there_ Roy was as he tried to calm him down.

He wanted out _now._

Roy was quiet for several more seconds.

Then, he pushed back to hold Ed at arm's length, hand again on his shoulder, dark eyes looking directly to his own and pale face still shadowed, troubled- but now, sure. Roy was quiet at first, watching him with worried eyes and clutching him close, something deeply concerned flickering across his face...

Until he grinned.

"You want to get out of here, Fullmetal?"

Ed swallowed hard, struggling and not succeeding very well at smothering the panicky lump in his throat. "Y- yeah?"

"You're sure?" Roy pressed, squeezing his shoulder again. "You know that it's not too safe out there right now. We'd probably end up in danger and have to protect ourselves- Alphonse won't be able to help us. We'd only be able to rely on ourselves. Even knowing that, you still want to get out of here?"

"I..." He hesitated again, panic still fluttering in his chest, but the anxiety crawling at every inch of him screamed the answer before he could even think of it. "Yes." Yes, he wanted _out_ of this fucking room, he didn't care how dangerous it was out there he just wanted out of this tiny space with a locked door staring him in the face that had him trapped and unable to get out. Yes, yes, _yes_ , he didn't care, he just wanted _out._ "I- y-yes, I- _so...?_ "

The colonel grinned viciously again.

"Just making sure," he assured, pulling on Ed's shoulder to turn him around and situate him carefully and safely against his chest, left arm holding him there securely while he flexed his gloved hand several times, curling his fingers. He took in a deep, steadying breath, Ed felt it by his ear and in the way he moved behind him, leveling his hand and clearly trying to still the faint trembling.

Then, he snapped.

There was a low, rumbling sort of creaking far closer and more ominous than the steady booming of a firefight from so many floors beneath them. Roy's fingers twitched and, beside him, the colonel let out a shudder of a gasp.

And, as Ed watched, one misshapen, jagged hole ate cleanly through the wood of the office floor, and carved out a chunk of flooring twice Ed's size to crash down to the office below them.

Ed gaped.

Next to him, after a somewhat stunned moment of silence, the bastard finally let out another groaning sort of hiss, vigorously shaking his hand about before just desperately clutching it to his chest, the look on his face a cross between irritation and pain. "God _damn_ it, I have got to stop doing that," he muttered to himself, shivering with an expression that was very familiar to Ed by now, that told him he had just burned his own fingers, but then the shadow of pain was gone as he turned to look back down towards him with a slight, mischievous smirk. "I'm pretty tired of being babied, too, Fullmetal. I'm grateful for the protection, but I'm- tired of needing it, you know?" His smirk broadened as he tugged his uniform straight, then held up his gloved hand between them, clenching his fist to pull the array tight and taut. "If I'm supposedly this high-ranking officer, I should be able to stand up for myself. And, to be perfectly honest: I think I'd like to be the one to find Justin and put an end to this, once and for all."

Roy paused for another moment, his eyes searching, gloved hand still tensed, but when Ed found himself incapable of anything at all greater than simply staring, the bastard smirked a little more, reaching out to pat his shoulder instead. "We can still stay up here, if you don't want to do this. I won't go if you don't want to. So... it's up to you, Fullmetal. ...Are you in?"

Ed stared blankly at the bastard again. The hole in the floor. Back to the bastard.

Then, he grinned right back.

"You got it," he promised, and clutched the gun from Lieutenant Hawkeye back to his chest.

He was afraid, yes.

But he was more afraid of being trapped up here like a sitting duck than he was of actually making a stand, and fighting for himself.

Roy was right.

He was tired of having to wait around for others to save him.

Once again, like Ed had so many weeks ago, once again like that bloody night that they'd both escaped from that damn hospital, Roy shifted around, crouching in an obvious silent invitation for Ed to climb on. This time, the bastard's back wasn't burned. This time, Ed wasn't so faint with blood loss he was apt to fall right off. _This_ time, they were both calm enough to do this, and this time, Ed pushed himself forward with a hard grin, wrapping one arm tightly around his shoulders and allowing the colonel to then hoist him up by his leg.

Just like he had weeks before, when they'd run for their lives, in one last desperate attempt to find their families.

Well, they had their families, now.

And they weren't running away any more.

* * *

Roy had never felt this panicked, terrified, and _exhilarated_ in all of his life.

Yes, yes, he didn't remember damn well most of it.

Well.

Didn't matter.

He was pretty sure he would've remembered feeling higher on fumes than this.

His heart skipped and pounded away, hammering hard so long and fast until he was all but lightheaded, hands cold and clammy in his gloves and fingers shaking so much he could barely hold onto Maes' knife. Ed felt barely any better, clutching so tightly around his torso he swore his fingernails were going to start drawing blood even through his uniform any minute now, gun barely grasped in trembling fingers in a way that was certainly not going to be of any use- but he was here with him, and Roy wouldn't have had it any other way.

Even though his plan wasn't really a good one.

Both he and Ed were in uniform, which he could only assume was their best protection, out here; no one on their side would shoot even if they weren't recognized. Even if they were completely and totally lost, which they were, even if they were wondering about without a coherent plan, rhyme, or reason in the middle of a firefight... which... they _were._ Their uniforms kept them safe, and somehow, there was a perverse sense of pleasure in that idea that he couldn't help but smirk at.

Justin and that damn hospital had tried to take all of this away from him. But he'd remembered this. He'd remembered _blue._

And now he had a whole army of it standing on his side, willing to watch Roy's back due to nothing more than the precious blue that he still remembered.

Now he had a whole army on his side, as it was now _his_ turn to hunt Justin down like the goddamned dog that he was.

Of course, there was just one problem with that plan:

Roy had no idea where the bastard was.

They'd landed on the floor beneath Hakuro's office, a floor that was entirely deserted- something Roy could only take as a good sign. That meant the rebels had not fought their way this far up yet. But without any soldiers here on his side, there was also nobody here to ask what was going on, and in that new, deserted silence, that just left him with two choices: up or down.

Up took them straight back to Alphonse, and, if he remembered correctly, Hawkeye. Down took them to Maes, most likely everybody else- and, most likely, the rebels and terrorists.

After what Roy remembered of the silent warning in Riza's glare, in her order to _stay in that room,_ and the idea of what Alphonse might do to him if he realized he'd coaxed his brother out of said room, he was willing to take his chances with the terrorists.

So, Ed clutching tightly onto his back like a desperate koala, and Roy with little more balance than a pogostick on a skateboard, he headed for the stairs, and went down.

"We need to get down to the first floor," he panted, fighting for balance as his heavy feet pounded down step after step, adrenaline pushing his feet forward even though he still had no idea where to. "Or at least close to it. Everyone should be down there."

"Of course they are," Ed grumbled. "As far away from us as possible."

"Would you prefer they have all formed a wall on the tenth floor to meet the terrorists there instead?" Sighing, Roy rounded around to yet another landing, panting even heavier now only to reel to a stop, blinking down the spartan, clean stairs to point just a floor below. There, _finally,_ another barricade was set up- this one armed and staffed with another set of soldiers that even if Roy didn't know them, he knew their uniform, and that was close enough. "Look, Fullmetal, there-"

He jogged down the stairs at an even faster pace, one hand clutching onto Ed's to try and steady him while the other remained tensed and ready to snap. "Hey!" he called, raising his voice over the muffled chaos around them. "Hey, um- do you know-"

The two soldiers, previously occupied with packing in their barricade even tighter and checking their weapons, both started to face him, then, one after the other, saluted him. "Colonel Mustang!" the first one exclaimed, his eyes brightening- then dimming, trailing over the child clinging to him with his face just peering out stubbornly over his shoulder. "U-uh... Colonel Mustang..."

Roy set his jaw defiantly, squeezing Ed's hand a little as he felt the alchemist stiffen, preparing to snap back at the man's confused and somewhat disturbed look alone. Good. So they knew him, even if he didn't know them. Good. He could use this. "Where is everyone else?" he demanded, faking a confidence through a grim smile and squared shoulders that he hadn't felt in months. "I'm looking for- ...I need to help. Where is everyone?"

Somehow, he figured blurting out that he was looking for _Justin_ wasn't going to get him very far.

But this line of questioning, of course, did not get him very far, either.

"We're- we're pinned down, sir-" The soldier's eyes flickered confusedly to Ed and back again, this time fixating quite firmly back on Roy after a snarl from the young alchemist, varying degrees of uncertainty and stress darkening his gaze. "We're holding them back two floors down but we can't get any closer, they're making it up the stairs and open fire whenever we try to come down. Can you give us some cover? We need to get back with the rest!"

Roy glanced uneasily at Ed, then down at his gloved hand, eying the neat array embroidered into the back. They were asking him- just assuming that he could pull it off... and that had to be why. He was the Flame Alchemist and he was known for what he could pull off with his gloves. General Hakuro himself had said it; all they needed out of him was someone who could aim and control his alchemy.

He'd dodged the question then, muttering a shameful and embarrassed _no._ He'd answered no when he'd known Maes and Riza had expected it from him and he'd known he was _supposed_ to, with Hakuro sitting right there implying if he answered yes, he'd be taken away from Ed and his family and sent off somewhere to use his alchemy for them.

There was no Hakuro here.

There was just two soldiers that needed his help, and Ed on his back, reliant on him to get him through this. Reliant on him to protect them both. Just two soldiers, Ed, and his gloves.

He took a deep breath, and closed his eyes.

He _could_ do this.

"Hang on tight," he murmured to Ed, squeezing at his hand again. "Hide your head or- or _something."_ Then, squaring his shoulders, he tugged his glove down tighter and swiveled around to face the fight.

Now that he was closer he could just glimpse them further down the stairs, three or four men working to form a sort of barricade of their own, simultaneously on the lookout for any attack from above while trying to make their own strides below. Not so far away that he couldn't aim that far, not close enough for him to get a good enough look to feel comfortable. He could pull this off, though, he knew he could, he just _had to-_

Then there was the sharp crack of a gunshot, echoing like a scream in the cage of the stairwell, Roy's heart skyrocketed into panic, and his burned raw fingertips scraped against each other in one sudden, startled jolt of a snap.

This time, the noises echoing in the stairwell actually were high-pitched, bloodcurdling shouts of panic and screeches of agony, so sudden Ed clutched him and Roy's hands flinched as if to cover his ears. There was a devastating plume of smoke and the hot, burning scent of fire, the agonized screams ringing in his ears like a nail hammered through his skull, his heart stuttering to a stunned stop in his chest-

But as frozen as he and Ed were, the rest of the world kept on turning.

"Thanks, Colonel Mustang!" the soldiers said to him, an in unison chorus of harsh gratitude and grinning in the face of the screaming as, one by one, they patted him on the shoulder and shot straight past him. They marched off down the stairs even as he jerked a hand out to stop them, panic and indecision fluttering in his heart because for all the bravado he had in spades, he lacked the _confidence._ He didn't know if he'd gotten them, he didn't know if he'd even been close, _wait,_ he wanted to say, _WAIT,_ but the soldiers so plainly trusted him more than he trusted himself and were gone before he could stop them.

And yet, even with his own horrified lack of trust in himself, he was frozen to watch the soldiers run on- and run on, they did. Straight down the stairs, with no gunshots or shouts of alarm or cries of pain to follow, straight on back down the stairs and right past where he'd aimed his alchemy.

Ed again stiffened around him, the hand clutching to his shoulder grabbing even tighter. "What- what did you _do?"_ the kid breathed, and for several moments, Roy had no answer for him.

His hand stung badly again. Fingertips scorched raw, his palm sore and aching with yet another burn that he knew he hadn't been able to stop.

"Well," he forced out finally, voice a lot stronger than he truly felt, "let's find out." Swallowing hard, he re-steadied himself, squaring his shoulders again to mute the shiver forcing itself down his spine. Nothing for it, he determined, but to march forward himself.

The first body, sprawled down motionless on the lower landing, had his head turned to the side with a blossoming trail of blood whispering down from his hairline. They were too far away for Roy to tell if he was breathing or not, but the explosion had very clearly knocked him in the head, and very clearly knocked him right out.

He didn't know if he was breathing, but he definitely knew he did not want to find out.

And the others...

Roy swallowed hard, and again forced himself, one foot after the other, to move on down the stairs.

This time, to grind to a very abrupt halt but three steps down.

There was another body, this one two landings below them. This one sprawled and motionless, too, but far more akimbo and unnatural than the first, clearly damaged from his fall down the stairs and this time, damaged too badly to be getting back up again.

The third body, just barely in his line of sight and he knew it was out of Ed's, was just a glimpse of a desperately kicking leg, and a boot that was on fire.

Roy's stomach lurched, and before he even knew what he was doing, his feet had moved again, this time to drag him straight down to the nearest landing and head straight into the hallway, as far away from the fire as fast as he could get it. He didn't want to see more, and he _did not_ want Ed to see more. He didn't Ed to ask him about it. He didn't want to admit to what he was capable of.

He didn't want to _remember_ what he was capable of, even as he knew that that rebel was not the first person he'd set on fire while still alive.

"Hey, um... bastard?" Ed ventured by his ear, pushing up on his shoulder a little to get some more leverage. "Shouldn't we be going downstairs more? To where most everyone else is?"

He was right. Even through the incomprehensible haze now descending over his head, Roy looked out and while this floor was not the deserted ghost town of the ones above it, it was not what they were looking for. The heart of the battle still went on below them.

But also below them was rebels he'd knocked out, maybe even _killed_ , at just a snap of his fingers. Also below them was the body he'd willfully tossed down the stairs and left behind, broken and bleeding, and- and the one he'd set on _fire._

Every last inch of him pulled away from that with a visceral, almost unbearable sort of disgust. He'd spent so long hunting for who he was, pawing through a haze of distant and murky memories to try and grasp something solid, _anything_ more substantial than hot, burning smoke, but there was nothing to run from or to anymore. _That_ was who he was. Those three bodies he'd snapped down a staircase and left broken, bleeding, and burning were who he was, for better or for worse.

And he didn't want to see that, just as much as he didn't want Ed to see it, either.

"...no," he heard himself cough out after several moments, voice gravelly and rough as his feet dragged himself forwards once again, this time straight through the soldiers running up and down the hall, checking weapons, dragging crates, barking orders. "I- Hughes'll be down there, and if he finds us he'll stop us. We'll need to look elsewhere."

Ed tensed again, this time pulling a little at his hair to try and make him stop. "Yeah, but what's he _really_ gonna do? It's not like he can off and escort us back up ten floors now, can he?"

No, no, he couldn't, but that didn't matter, because Roy wasn't going down that staircase now and even if there was a whole army of Hugheses waiting at every other exit. "It's fine," he mumbled, trudging straight on through the crowd, _it's fine, just let everything be fine..._

"Hey, bastard, what's your problem?" Ed tugged on his hair again, this time hard enough to actually reel him to a stop. " _You_ were the one who wanted to make a go at this ourselves, but now you're chickening out?! Come on, we're fine! What do you think he's gonna do, just kidnap us in the middle of all this shit?"

Roy bristled, jerking his head forward in an aggravated attempt to tug those irritating fingers right off. "I'm not- _quit it, Fullmetal!-_ I'm not _scared_ of _Justin._ I'm- I'm only saying-"

"I'm just calling it like I see it, and right now, you're the one who suddenly doesn't want to go looking for him the only place he might actually be! Come on, bastard, I'm not backing down!"

" _Neither am I!_ I-"

 _"TAKE COVER! TAKE COVER! EVERYONE TAKE COVER!"_

"-just meant... huh?"

Roy blinked dazedly, staring away from Ed back to the chaos up and down the hallway, the chaos that had just yanked its way one notch further. The network of blue uniforms darting past him suddenly turned into a mass of coordinated panic, soldiers abruptly dissipating, covering their heads and ducking to the floor and making a grab for anything solid they could find. The order was screamed out again, ringing in his ears, but Roy had no idea what they could possibly be talking about or what he was meant to do, and when he blinked back at Ed, it was plain the younger alchemist was just as lost as him.

For several seconds there was a desolate, very confused silence that settled over the chaos, reigning all around them.

Then, with an earth-shattering _crack,_ an earsplitting _boom,_ and a gut-wrenching drop in his stomach, the floor beneath them was splintered in the first explosion that _wasn't_ from Roy's fingertips- and they fell.

* * *

When everything finally ground to a dusty, painful, screeching halt, the screams still ringing right in Ed's ears, it was for him to find him head reeling, and nearly all his body half crushed under a slab of concrete.

Even with the horrified panic of the fall having careened to a screeching halt, the aches of being tugged so tightly into Roy's arms, the pains of colliding into the rough edge of torn concrete, and the shellshock of the dusty explosion in the first place kept him paralyzed. He just lay there, collapsed sloppily over the broken curve of some miserable piece of rubble and the warm weight of Roy's arm, gasping into the thick silence, and mind utterly shattered with the shock.

He blinked shudderingly into the sudden, new dark. He jerked with the sudden pain of it, sore all over and shaken, the only anchor he had Roy's arm against him. He jerked again, gasping and overwhelmed, the sudden fall and new darkness turning his mind to mush, but managed to at least be aware of Roy next to him, and at least drag himself around to see if he was okay.

"Bastard?" he coughed, or, at least, made an attempt; a guttural, struggling sort of failure that sounded more like a hacking gasp than anything else. He coughed again, swallowing, and made a second stab at it. "H-hey, bastard, what's- what's going on? What happened?" He squinted hard, head ringing desperately and the shadows blotting out with spots of color bleaching through his eyes, Roy nothing more than a dark mass slightly lighter than the rest of the darkness surrounding him.

Roy grunted a little. Just a small, exhausted sort of groan, nonverbal and barely coherent, enough to prove he was alive, not enough to prove anything beyond that. "Bastard," he prodded again, shaking his head to try and clear the soft, spinning slush out of it as he pushed, now trying to get himself upright. He felt okay, at least, he could move his arm and his leg, he could breathe without too much pain- he was probably bruised and cut all over but nothing serious, at least... god, his head was spinning...

There was some more shuffling, some faint sorts of creaks and crumbling of rubble, but they felt distant and vague and not important at all next to the warm, shuddering body next to him. "Bastard? Roy?" he called again, glaring around the shadows. In the collapse they had to have been completely trapped, he figured, that was the only explanation- their only light sources being beyond the rubble and leaving him and Roy in complete darkness.

He would've panicked then and there about being shut in, potentially with no way out, if he hadn't been about to panic about the fact that _Roy wasn't answering him._

"Roy?" he called desperately, shaking him. "Roy? ... _Bastard?!"_

There was another low, sleepy sort of groan. This one seemed to at least try to approximate some sort of reply, but whatever words there were were lost underneath the sigh, and he did not try to say it again.

Shit. Shit this was bad. This was really, really bad. He sucked in a stuttering gasp, mind again threatening to all but throw itself right off the tracks, his heart pounding and his hand trembling even as he rested it on what he hoped was Roy's back. _Great._ He'd never needed a human match more than right this second, and now his resident flamethrower of a friend was out cold...

Ed heaved in another trembling breath, shaking his head hard when he felt that panic in his chest start to rise. Nope. _Nope._ Wasn't okay. That couldn't happen this time. This time he didn't have Roy to take up the slack if he off and lost his mind, because now it was all on _him_ and Roy wasn't moving, why wasn't he moving- why was it so fucking _dark-_

"D-damn it, bastard," he stammered, "if you could just give me a light right now-"

But Roy wasn't awake enough to answer him. By the rare groans and uneven breathing, he might not have been awake at all.

Ed took a deep gasp of his own, struggling to keep his head on and think through the encroaching panic.

Then, his gaze still only for the gently breathing, slumped figure before him, he got to work.

It was hard, in the almost complete darkness, but he ran his hand over the colonel, searching until he'd landed on his back. Definitely breathing. Good. That assured, he shifted again, shoving himself up along with the faint sounds of rubble shifting and creaking elsewhere in wherever the hell they'd ended up, carefully running his hand up until he'd found his right shoulder, then feeling his way down until he'd found Roy's hand.

Or, more accurately, his _gloved_ hand.

Ed grinned again.

"Gimme," he muttered, wrapping his fingers around Roy's bigger ones to work against the cloth. Definitely had to be careful here. If he dropped the glove, in this darkness it'd be hell to get it back. "Gimme, bastard... come on..."

Roy groaned quietly again, shifting just a little, turning underneath him with a great, heavy sigh. But he still did not seem to be conscious, so Ed just kept on, focusing on nabbing the glove for himself. It probably wouldn't fit too well, but that didn't matter; all he needed was the flint in the fingertips. He muttered to Roy as he worked, trying to prod him awake as he, as gently as he could, worked the fabric off his limp hand and using the colonel to stave off the panic he still could feel gnawing at the edges of his mind.

He could get through this. Roy had gotten him through so much more before this- and now Roy was the one who needed him.

He could do this.

Glove now in hand, Ed settled back down next to him, still gingerly shaking the limp shoulder next to him as he tried to think. Okay. Okay. Now he had fire. Now he just had to find something to set on fire. Well he was surrounded by all this damn rubble, half of it still cutting into him and pressing into his now many bruises, but that was probably mostly concrete...

At last, still scowling to himself, Ed pushed himself up to his knees to unhook the uniform skirt Havoc had given him this morning. Damn thing had been tripping him up all day, and now it was finally about to get some use. The thing was mostly thick cloth, so it'd probably burn pretty quickly, but there was a lot of it, and the leather belt and metal buckle would surely slow it down. Besides, he didn't need light for all that long- just long enough for him to figure out how to wake Roy up.

Satisfied, Ed wrapped the bundle around the nearest hunk of rubble he could grab, making sure to settle it carefully away from the limp colonel- and from Ed's own foot. Then he set his fingers to it and, just like he had watched Roy do so many times himself, he snapped.

There was no impressive, fancy explosion. There was no neatly controlled shockwave of blast of fire and heat or the crackle of alchemy that he'd watched Roy fight to control, even up to the point of him snapping in that stairwell just minutes before.

There was, however, the heat of a spark between his thumb and fingertip, and then, the immediate satisfaction of the cloth catching fire.

Ed sighed in relief, grinning into the new flickering shadows as he lowered his newly gloved hand to his lap. He _knew_ he wasn't useless. Maybe he was still a massive liability, because he _still_ didn't have a new arm or a leg like Al promised him he usually did, but he at least pull this off. "And all while the bastard slept, too," he muttered to himself, grinning again- but this time, finally able to look back to Roy and see what was wrong.

The light was faint, dancing shadows that flickered along the lengths of the crumbling concrete rubble around them, forcing him to squint and lean just to try and get a better look. It was hard to tell, but it was definitely _Roy_ that was slumped messily beside him, the colonel curled against rough edges with his head pillowed against a jagged shard of rock. His hair hid his face, dusty and ruffled, from what he could see he... he _seemed_ okay...

"Hey, Roy?" he called nervously, shaking at his shoulder again. "Come on, bastard, wake up- wake _up..."_ Anxiously, he moved his hand from his limp arm to his face instead, gently turning it up towards the dim lighting to try and catch a glimpse of his expression.

His stomach clenched in deep, nauseating worry.

His face was worryingly pale against the firelight, shadows dancing along his cheeks as he flinched under the new exposure to light. His eyes were closed tightly and the corners of his mouth tight, grimaces crossing across his face and mutters out his mouth in a way that again confirmed he was alive, but certainly not awake and kicking.

What was most concerning was the trail of black blood, glistening in the fire light, already trickling down from his hairline.

"Damn it, Roy, you can _not_ take another knock to the fucking head- neither of us can take that, you- come on, bastard, wake up! _Wake up!"_

Roy groaned something, muttering under his breath as Ed shook him, rousing at least a little but not enough. Ed swore under his breath, shifting back to glance over the rest of him, searching for any other injury- damn it, _damn it_ this wasn't good. His left arm was pinned underneath a hunk of concrete that Ed already knew just looking at it he wasn't strong enough to haul off of him, and even if the bastard had been awake he probably wouldn't have the leverage to do it himself.

"Wake _up!_ Bastard, I swear..."

Roy grunted again, head rolling against the rough stones as another pained grimace crossed across his face, mouth twitching. "Wh... _what...?"_ he grumbled, a half-cough, half muffled sort of growl- but it was the best fucking thing Ed had ever heard.

"G-good- good _morning,_ bastard," he gasped, sagging with relief back against his own miserably uncomfortable pile of rubble. "Sleep well?" He dragged a badly trembling hand through his hair as Roy started to squint, obviously in pain but more conscious than before and that was about all Ed could ask for. "Fucking taking a nap in the middle of all of this- what were you thinking?"

Roy grumbled something again, the words incoherent this time as he squinted his eyes open, glaring into the flickering shadows. Slowly, he tensed, starting to try and push himself up with his free hand only to fall still again with a shudder, pain clenching in his jaw again. "What's going-"

He stopped.

His eyes widened.

Nerves clenched anxiously around Ed's heart, his stomach twisting. "What is it? What's wrong?" He leaned forward again, carefully nudging their light closer as he looked the colonel over, searching frantically for some sign of injury that he had missed, something that was hurting him that he hadn't seen- but aside from the blood on his head, he seemed _fine,_ and he wasn't looking at Ed, anyway, he was staring right past him, pale face frozen and eyes huge with a distant, horrified sort of shock-

Like there was nothing wrong with him.

Like...

There was something _behind_ him.

Ed froze.

His stomach dropped.

"R... Roy?" Nervously, shakily, Ed pushed at the colonel's shoulder again, skin on the back of his neck crawling and itching with a sudden cold sweat. He was being paranoid, right? There wasn't anybody behind them. They'd just gotten themselves trapped in a cocoon of rubble; there wasn't any monster in the dark who'd slipped in to stare at them. That was unreal, that was just _crazy._ Even if Roy was busy still just staring over his shoulder, not saying anything, paralyzed and face frozen in a rictus of horror, even if he- _fuck it, bastard, please stop looking like that, please stop looking like that-_ "H-hey, Roy, w-what's-"

Then, without another the word, the colonel shot forward, his one free arm grabbing at Ed to push him behind him, shielding him as best as he surely knew how, and planting himself right between Ed- and the man in there with them.

An ice cold wave washed over him in instant, unbearable, agonizing terror.

Dusty, bleeding, and crumpled, just like Roy. Plainly obvious that he'd been caught up in the same explosion that had dragged and trapped them both down here, injured from the chaos but upright, steady, and ready to go. There was a gun in his hand that had very clearly been there for a while, lazy and loose but pointed right to them, and waiting across the collapsed, destroyed room and in the fragile, flickering shadows that was all there was to light up his face he seemed gaunt, glaring, _dangerous._ Inhuman.

Without the doctor's coat, Ed nearly didn't recognize him. With the cajoling, unassuming smile morphed into something dangerously unhinged and passive eyes darkened into a predatory, glaring snarl of a hunter with its prey in the corner, with the blood splattering his face and the furious light burning into his gaze, he almost, _almost,_ did not know who he was.

But he did.

"Well, well, well," the man said again, dangerous smirk broadening into a deadly, hungry, and unabashed smile. "It's been a while, hasn't it? Edward. Roy."

It was Justin.


	28. Chapter 28

Ed stared for several long, heart-stopping, impossible seconds.

Then, there was only one thing stopping him from hurling himself right onto Justin, and that one thing was Roy's steady arm, thrown out to hold him back and keep the bastard right in between him and _him._

Roy was snapping already, frantically dragging his fingers together over and over, the sound echoing in the tiny space but no fire came after it, no smoke, no explosion. It took them both a moment to realize he was snapping his bare hand, pale fingers fumbling in the firelight, and Ed only realized in time with Roy's rough gasp that the glove was still on his hand.

"Roy-" he gasped, already scrambling to finagle it off, hand it back over to him- but Justin, with one dangerous, calm wave of his gun, and an even more dangerous, deranged sort of smile, froze him right in his tracks.

"Ah, ah, ah," he warned, shaking his head along with the gun and giving them the same bloody, slippery sort of _smile_ that made Ed feel like he'd just been drowned in a bucket full of ice. "Let's just see you toss that right over here, shall we? No need for anyone to get all antsy, now."

Panic and hate both this time collided in his chest, slamming into each other to form a white hot sort of blinding rage. The patronizing, the condescension, that fucking _smile-_

"That was not a request," Justin said coldly, and this time, the gun was cocked with anything but a smile.

Ed's heart pounded, and for several deadly, furious moments, he honestly felt as if he'd prefer getting shot then following any single instruction from that man ever again.

But then Roy was there, pushing him back just a little more with an arm that was too steady, a face that was too cold. "Do what he says, Fullmetal," he murmured, dark eyes never leaving the fake doctor and dangerous alchemist across from them- and this, too, was obviously not just a request.

At first that was all there was, the two older alchemists glaring at each other, smeared blood trails gleaming on both their faces and in the flickering firelight they looked almost wild, feral. For a terrible moment Ed wandered if that was how he looked, too, half-crazy in the dusty darkness with a gun on him from one direction and Roy's arm from the other.

"Fine," he spat, working the oversized glove off his hand and glaring all the while. It was a bit hard- or just impossible- to aim, but he still made it a point to toss it down across the confined space, not to Roy, but certainly not to Justin either. He was shivering and in pain and scared, but all that fear and hurt that he'd been made to keep silent for so long morphed straight into rage as he slapped it right onto the floor and pushed against Roy's arm, nearly throwing himself at him. "That you wanted? That good for you, _doctor?_ Doctor-" What was it, what was it, what the fuck had Hakuro said- "Doctor _Everson?"_

Justin, midway to a suspicious glance after where Ed had tossed the glove, stiffened a little. His warning smile slipped, the blood still dripping in a macabre trail down his pale, shadowed face, and for a moment, his eyes narrowed. "So you know my name, then."

"That's not all that we know," Roy snapped, hand tensing as if he wanted to do just that. "We _all_ know who you are. What you've done. Maes- the _military_ knows, the whole military knows! It's too late for you- if you think-"

"I _think,_ " Justin said carefully, "that the three of us are currently stuck in what appears to be a cave in, and until an alchemist comes along to help us out, we'd be best to stay calm, unless you want to bring the whole building down on our heads. So." He waved the gun a little again, the threat silent, but Ed did not need it to be spoke aloud. "How about the both of you just stay right over there and keep your hands where I can see them?"

Ed glared across the small space, hand clenching to tighten around Roy's wrist as he again fought back the desperate urge to stop cowering like a weakling and finally, _finally,_ strike back. He didn't care what Justin said. He didn't care, staring around the dark and dusty and bloody rubble, that the son of a bitch was _right,_ and if Roy had had his gloves to snap with he might well have brought the whole down on them.

He'd take the risk, if it meant it crushed Justin along with them.

He'd take it because he was _never_ letting that man so much as touch him again. He wasn't going to wake up back in that padded room, he was going to let him take Al away from him, and he wasn't going to fucking let him hurt Roy.

He was _done_ being helpless.

That gun- where was that gun Hawkeye had given him, he had to have dropped it in the fall, but it was somewhere around him, somewhere close, if he could just-

"Edward," Justin warned, slippery smile broadening again. "Whatever it is that you're looking for, I'd ask you to consider if you could get to it faster than I could pull the trigger." He paused for a moment, leaning just a little more against the rough, scraping concrete to again wave the gun in his direction. "Unless, of course, you're looking for _this,_ Edward?"

"Looking for-"

He fell to a dead stop, his eyes widening in horror.

Hawkeye's gun.

Hawkeye's _gun._

He'd stolen it.

She'd trusted him to use it... she'd looked at him and told him she trusted him with it because she knew he could do it, and- and he'd just...

 _That son of a bitch..._

That was what the sounds of movement had been before, he realized with a dawning sense of terror. The shuffling and creaks that he'd ignored while trying to tend to Roy, movement at his back... he'd dropped the gun from Hawkeye and _Justin had stolen it._

Ed snarled, hand tightening into a bruising fist, and suddenly found his heart pounding so hard he could hardly stand it.

She'd given it to him because she'd said she _trusted_ him, she'd told him she believed in him even if he couldn't believe in her or himself, and he'd just- just-

 _When is he going to quit taking things from us?!_

"So your plan is to shoot us, huh?" Roy snapped, angry and cold. He continued to all but shove Ed behind him, arm thrown out and his till clenched, bare hand nearly vibrating with the tension. "Regretting not killing us before? Want a do-over?"

Justin frowned a little himself, his inscrutable eyes flickering darkly in between the two of them even while that dammed gun didn't move a single inch. Always right on Roy. "Actually," he murmured, "I was intending on hanging onto a few hostages. You know- just to be safe." He gave a slight, dangerous sort of shrug, and an even more dangerous sort of smile. "We've got no way of knowing if it'll be my friends or yours who break through here. I'd just like a little insurance policy if it ends up not being someone friendly to me."

Ed just glimpsed Roy rolling his eyes in the dancing firelight, the bastard elbowing him back a little when he once again tried to shove his way forward. " _You're_ the insane one, _doctor,_ if you think they'll let you get anywhere with us. If you wanted us dead then I'm afraid you missed your chance months ago."

Justin's face, however, his bloody, eerie face, twitched again, just a quiet little smirk as he settled himself more securely against the rubble and his unfocused sort of eyes flickering to glare away towards the floor. "Don't you worry about me," he muttered under his breath, an annoying sort of smug, arrogant deflection, and Ed's anger flared again.

"You-"

" _Fullmetal,"_ Roy hissed, shoving back even harder. He shook his head, dark eyes flickering back around to meet his against the gleaming blood on his face, a terrible dichotomy of black blood on white skin with a silent sort of message etched there. A desperate pleading to just _stay quiet, let me handle this, let me protect you, Fullmetal,_ but all Ed read over the resounding anger and panic was Roy trying to take all oft his on himself _again_ , and leave Ed out of it. He'd take whatever Justin had to give as long as he could save Ed from it.

Well, Ed was tired of sitting back to watch as everyone else protected him.

He was _tired of it._

And this time, he decided to fight back.

"You can fuck right the _hell off,_ Justin," Ed snarled, and Roy only had one arm and was knocked all but senseless with a head injury so he just shoved his protective hand straight down to push forward instead, gasping in the smoke and trembling hard with the barely suppressed rage. "Haven't taken enough from us already, huh, is that it?! Want to try and shoot us cause you think it'll get you out of here?!"

"Fullmetal, _please-"_

"You're out of your dammed _mind._ You're not going anywhere! Al's here, Hughes is here- you think they're just gonna let you walk away?! You want to try touching us again, well, go ahead, you fucking psychopath! _Go ahead!"_ Ed kept one eye on the discarded glove on the dusty floor and the other on Justin, half crawling forward another inch even over Roy's half desperate, gasped sort of protest. "Just do it now! God knows you threatened to do it enough times, remember that, you threatened it to _me,_ you said you'd kill him if I didn't do what you want! And you tried to kill me, you remember?! Do you?! _Because I do!"_

Behind him, Roy gasped, abruptly and suddenly horrified, but Ed fought on without heed for it, his eyes only for the bloody, still smiling face before them that had taken _everything_ away from him and tried to take still more. "You wanted to leave me to die! I _heard you!_ You said you were going to leave me like that, that people died like that all the time and nobody'd care, you t-thought- _you want us dead?! You wanted us dead this whole time?! Go for it, then!"_

Justin tensed again. His eyes narrowed in the face of the nearly screamed rant, form infuriatingly motionless and expression furiously impassive, so still Ed's head pounded and his vision contracted around him and he saw red- but his tormentor remained perfectly calm and in control the entire time. "So you've rediscovered a backbone, then?' he nearly snarled in disgust, slowly halfway working himself to his knees as if to be ready to fight him off at any moment. The gun remained steady in the air, turned towards Roy without ever once wavering. "Well, you can leave it back where you found it. Nobody wants you dead. All anyone wants is for you to just shut up."

"Oh, right, you just want to drag us around at gunpoint, then?" he spat. "You're- let _go,_ Roy!- you're a fucking joke. If you really don't give a damn, why don't you get us all out of here right now? Aren't _you_ an alchemist? Can't you just transmute your way out- oh." He mock paused, letting his smile twist into something even colder, because he had been through too fucking much at that man's hands to restrain himself any longer. "Oh, that's _right._ I forgot! _You_ can't. Because _you_ failed your alchemy exam. _You_ were such a shitty alchemist you needed _us_ to do your dirty work for you."

And this time- for perhaps the very first time since he'd ever woken up in that damn hospital- Ed was in control, and he got to see Justin be rattled.

It wasn't much. Just a subtle tensing around his eyes, that annoyingly, infinitely smug smile fading into something darker, something _angrier._ But it was there, that was all Ed had to see to squash the rising fear in his chest, and instead embrace his own rage full-heartedly.

"You don't know a damn thing," Justin hissed. His eyes went narrow, a slight tightening at his mouth, the smallest shudder in his voice to belie instability. "I could've done it all myself if your military had recognized me. How _good_ I was."

"Yeah, but they didn't, did they?" Ed pressed again, an almost wicked smile twisting its way across his face that he didn't have the self-control or the will to stop. "They turned you and your trash array out because they knew you were _trash,_ they knew-"

"Fullmetal, for the love of god, shut-"

"They weren't good enough for my array! They weren't smart enough to look at me and see what I could do! They looked at _me_ and said I wasn't good enough, but then- then they take _him,_ " he gestured wildly at Roy, "they take this dammed brat who couldn't even make gold for me- then there's _you! You!_ A twelve year old god dammed _child!_ You-"

"That's right! A twelve year old _child!"_ Ed shouted, shoving forwards past Roy's arm again to lunge ahead, sanity and reason bashed against the rocks for panic to override him from head to toe. "A twelve year old child was better than-"

The gun came down like a club; he saw it in the firelight, swung down as a hammer, and a split second later, he realized what it was. A split second after that, he realized he should probably get out of the way.

That was a split second too late.

* * *

This time, when Ed woke up, his head was pounding, and this time, every ounce of his confidence and bravado had morphed into miserable regret.

Ow.

Ow.

 _Ow._

This time he wasn't coming off of a peaceful round of sedation, nonconsensual or not. This time every bit of him hurt and his head in particular felt like somebody had taken a sledgehammer to it. It ached just to breathe and eyes still shut, body still slumped on the floor- didn't matter; still felt dizzy and knew just upon trying to crack open his eyes that standing was a bad idea. Talking? Also probably a bad idea. Staying conscious? Ditto.

But he was awake now, each shuddering breath feeling like a nail through his eye, and he could feel something slick and cold on the side of his head, sticking his hair together, that he could only surmise to be his own blood. He heaved in a shaky, shallow wheeze again, miserable and half-sick already, letting his head nuzzle into the nearby warmth because he wasn't capable of just about anything more than that.

It took him more than several seconds to realize that that warmth was familiar, because he'd fallen asleep against it before.

Roy.

Roy's scratchy uniform jacket under his cheek, and his scratchy, uniformed arm around his back to hold him there.

The anxiety and fear already clutching at his stomach receded, just a little bit, and Ed let himself relax into the bastard's arm just a little more.

Then, a half second later, he remembered _why_ it hurt, why it felt like he was slowly suffocating in a crypt, and why he was passing out against Roy, and that anxiety and fear came right back full force.

Roy. Justin. Gun to his damn head.

 _Justin._

Ed shrunk just a little more back into Roy as something cold and terrified clenched in his stomach and the fear began to claw its way right back up his throat.

Voices encroached in on his already hazy consciousness, biting at the dizzy cloud in his head like so many bugs. He clutched exhaustedly at Roy, his tired and sore fingers curling in his jacket as he sunk back against him as surreptitiously as he could, wanting to get away, wanting to hide-

But there was nowhere to run.

"...fair. It wasn't goddamn _fair."_

Justin, Ed recognized. That was his voice.

He sunk into Roy a little more.

"Do you know how long I spent, making my array? How hard I worked on it? And then- then they wouldn't even _test it._ They wouldn't even try! They said it was too dangerous just after looking at it!"

Roy was quiet, and did not respond. Unlike Ed, it seemed, the bastard was content keeping his silence and not testing the dangerous, antagonistic asshole with a gun.

Probably because it was safest that way.

Yeah, Ed thought, the word muddy through the pounding in his bloody, bloody head. Yeah, it was probably safer to have Roy be the one doing the talking.

"And instead, what did they do? Who'd they take instead of _me?_ " There was more shifting of rubble now, tired, dusty sort of creaks that sounded as if Justin was pacing, now, kicking aggravatedly at rubble, muttering under his breath. A distracted, angry mumble, not even talking to Roy at all anymore but to himself, all but ranting as he paced, and Roy, his arm still draped protectively around him, held very, very still."There's Armstrong," Justin muttered on, "buying his name in when his big name and old money... then that Kimbley- but you all didn't care about dangerous arrays with _him,_ you didn't care until he was blowing other soldiers up... Shou Tucker, and from what we all hear he's just a psychopath that lost it..." The pacing sounds stopped for a moment, as if Justin was glaring down to them, now, eying them with that angry, hungry, wolflike stare Ed remembered so well from the days and days and days he'd been forced to kneel down before that array. "Oh- I'm sorry. I'm forgetting my manners. _You_ wouldn't actually remember any of that... would you, Roy?"

This time, Ed felt Roy tense a little, and the arm that was loose around his back stiffened as his fingers clenched into a hard, tight fist.

He didn't say anything, but Justin, apparently, did not need him to.

The fake doctor laughed, the sound loud and hollow in the tight space, and he moved closer and he laughed again, smug and arrogant and slimy. "That's right. Your military refused me and told me my array would never work- so I hand them back their two prize alchemists without a memory left in their heads." He paused again, and Ed just barely cracked his eyes open to watch as the shadowy figure knelt down for a moment, gathering something from the dusty ground. "What are you doing with this, hmm, Roy?" He waved his find in between them, the smirk audible on his voice alone. "We both know you can't use it."

Roy was quiet for a moment again, and Ed dared to crack his eyes open just a little further, struggling to see without alerting to anyone that he was awake.

Roy's glove.

Justin had picked up Roy's glove, that he'd made Ed take off and toss to the floor.

He gritted his teeth, and seethed.

"...They wanted me to look the part today," Roy said stiffly at last, his voice purposefully vague and distant. "No. I can't use them. You know why."

Ed nearly blinked in surprise, only barely managing to hold himself still out of some sort of desperate, last ditch effort that he grasped onto in the nick of time. So Roy was going to play innocent, then- tell Justin he couldn't use his alchemic explosions and fires that Ed knew he'd worked so hard at.

Hell, it wasn't too bad a plan. Ed sort've wished he'd had some of the foresight to play it cool himself, before.

Maybe that way his head wouldn't feel like someone had smashed it against all the rubble around them.

And this answer, thankfully, somehow seemed to be enough to satisfy Justin as he laughed cruelly again, high-pitched and vaguely unhinged, _unsettling._ "That's right," he proclaimed, slipping the glove onto his own hand to grin at the embroidered array. "The famous, flagship Flame Alchemist, and _I_ was enough to make you useless. I was better than _you._ "

There was another cold, unsettling moment of silence.

"Is that why you did all this, then?" Roy asked quietly, his arm tightening protectively around Ed again. "We know about the gold. We know why you needed State Alchemists. But this is why you wanted _us,_ isn't it...? You wanted to make a point."

"Wanted to? I _made_ my point!" And Justin had whirled around on them again, angrily waving that one gloved hand, the other with the gun still in the air, and even in the sliver of vision Ed had between his lashes he could see the blood trail had gotten worse. It was all the way down to his chin, now, and still dripping. "I bested both of you. You- you were the youngest State Alchemist before this kid came along, did you know that? Just a few years before they threw me out of the exam. I put in a decade of work but _you_ just stroll in barely out of school and they let you in- and for what?! You couldn't even use my array to make gold. We both saw it." He laughed suddenly again, a short and abrupt burst of hysteria, spinning around on the spot to set about pacing frantically once more. "Then- then they take this... twelve year old _brat..._ they took in a dammed child while they laughed in my face..."

There was another uncomfortable silence, Roy almost unnaturally still around him, and Ed shrunk back self-consciously again.

But a few moments later, the fake doctor's laughed died down shakily, and he dropped his gloved hand back down to his side, a cold, angry sort of smile slipping onto his face again that Ed could just barely see through his one cracked open eye. "I'll admit I was angry with the boy at first. But he proved he was worth it. Always running around doing alchemy without circles, I heard not even the military knew how... he was good. He was even better than I thought he was. I put an impossible array in front of him near the end and he just- just sailed straight through and came out standing." He shook his head wondrously, one hand dragging through his blood-matted hair while the other with the gun still refused to waver even an inch. "I'd never heard of an alchemist surviving that array in one piece but he does it when he can't even remember enough to tell a transmutation from a deconstruction. It was incredible." He laughed quietly again, half bewildered, half still cruel. "I knew I could use him, even before I saw just how good he was. I needed someone to make gold for us and if anyone could it was him. I needed him."

There was another short, uncomfortable pause.

"So," Roy said finally. "You took Fullmetal because... you needed him. And... and you took me." He took in a slow, slightly shuddering breath, just close enough for Ed to feel it on his skin. "To get back at me."

Justin glanced darkly back at them both, the firelight casting eerie shadows on his face and flickering against his cold smile. "What do you know?" he chuckled, smirking. "The useless alchemist finally gets one right."

Roy tensed again, and this time, Ed knew he wasn't the only one thinking about the glove still set snugly on the bastard's pinned arm.

"I'll be honest," the fake doctor went on with a broad, gleaming sort of hysterical, insane smile, "the grand scheme of things, the gold, this fight against the military? It was never for me. There was so much more to it than even I knew... your government is a lot less liked than you'd believe, _Flame._ There're Ishvalans with us today, chimeras- did you know that, Mustang, did you know how many chimeras your government makes in secret while executing Tucker for doing the same but getting caught? I sure didn't until I got caught up with all of this. And there's more! You think you were the only ones making gold for us? Just little Ed, bankrolling our entire fight?" He barked out another short, angry laugh. "Think again. The Freezing Alchemist, he's with us too, Isaac- and he's with us of his own free will!" The pacing started again, this time with that dammed gun wavering back in their direction while that glove that Ed so desperately wanted back on Roy's hand left still by his side. "He doesn't talk much. I could never get him to tell me what he's got against the military. But it was never mattered to me."

"...Because you got what you wanted."

And, once again, Justin grinned.

"I did," he said coldly. "I got exactly what I wanted."

To that, Roy slowly tightened his arm around Ed again, and Ed, his head still dizzy and his heart still pounding, at last felt a slow, rising sense of resignation.

That was that, then.

That was why all of this had happened to them. They'd been targeted by this angry, pathetic alchemist who'd felt slighted by the military years and years ago, and had let that slight turn into a festering wound that hungered for revenge- and they had been his unlucky targets. Ed had been snatched up because they'd needed him to use their arrays and it sounded like he'd been their best bet, and Roy had been targeted because Justin had apparently fixated on him as the face of the military's slight against him.

That was it.

Because it didn't sound as if Justin had ever even _met_ Roy before. That he'd just stewed in silence for years against him and when the opportunity had arose, he'd just gobbled it up, thrilled for the excuse to do get at him however he wanted. And Ed?

God, it sounded like he'd barely even entered into the asshole's mind. Like he'd been little more than an afterthought, at best. That he'd been Justin's little lab rat, neatly running around his little mazes like a good boy, while Roy had been the lab rat he'd shocked for the fun of it, but Ed- all Justin had done to him, all he'd gone through, the weeks alone, the nights spent screaming and out of his mind, the days spent abandoned on the floor of that padded cell, the _months_ alone and memories of his brother ripped away and torn apart and left to die like trash-

And there wasn't even a reason for it.

Justin's entire focus had been revenge against Roy for some imagined offense the bastard hadn't even committed- but there hadn't even been a reason for what he'd done to Ed _at all._

He'd just let him be hurt that much because he hadn't been human enough to care.

Something miserable and lost sunk past the lump in his throat, and for a moment, he felt almost too lonely and neglected to stand it.

Only for a moment, however.

Because a heartbeat after that impossible, choked, chilling silence- the noises started to come.

Loud, shuddering rumbles that shook through the earth itself, the rubble around them suddenly trembling, the floor underneath their feet suddenly shifting, showers of crumbled dust suddenly dousing them and Roy was coughing, the bastard hacking for breath even as the one arm he had to hold him tugged him suddenly closer. It was an abrupt, desperate grab at protection, Ed felt it even as he started to push himself upright, forgoing any attempt at feigning sleep any longer because in the frantically flickering firelight and earsplitting rumbles so close around them he felt it in his bones that they were about to be fucking suffocated in a dammed cave in.

But while Roy flinched back, trying to hold him closer, and Ed clutched right back, ducking his head from the suddenly trembling rubble- Justin jerked bolt upright, and grinned.

"Looks as if somebody finally found us!" he cried, throwing his newly gloved hand up in near ecstasy. "And if someone's about to let us out of here-" He turned his hungry gaze back down onto them... and with it, the gun.

"Then it's time for me to get my human shield back."

For a split-second, there was nothing but the same flickering darkness, Ed's confusion, and Justin's sharp smile.

Then he realized exactly what that man meant.

Unfortunately, it was already too late.

 _"Don't touch him! Stop, Justin, STOP IT-"_

"Stop! N _-no-"_ Ed yanked away, but Justin was already grabbing at his collar, yanking at him while Roy fought back, holding him with all his strength and Ed grabbed him back but Justin had leverage and both his arms to work with and there was nothing, _nothing_ he could do to stop it as he was dragged right up into the air, right away from Roy- and right against Justin.

His panicked heart careened right to a stop, and by the frozen, distraught rictus of anguish on Roy's face as he was ripped away, so was his.

And there it was.

In about two seconds flat, Ed had gone from safe and protected against Roy, to dragged up and away from him to be pinned against Justin so tightly and forcefully he'd been knocked right off his feet, his leg dangling uselessly from the one arm that kept him pinned against Justin's chest, and with the cold, hard muzzle of the gun from Hawkeye jammed right into his skull.

There it was.

Ed's heart lurched so hard in his chest he nearly choked. Roy, still trapped down on the floor, was now scrabbling, gasping, his feet struggling for purchase against the dust as he shoved and shoved at the concrete pinning his arm- but he remained stuck amongst the rubble, and unable to manage anything more than staring up at him with huge, desperate eyes and a horrified, frantic face that felt like it had driven a knife through his heart.

And it didn't matter, because there was absolutely nothing he could do about to get away.

He was trapped _again-_ right back in his worst nightmare.

Because Al was gone, Roy was powerless, and Ed was _..._ was helpless.

It was suddenly feeling very, very hard to breathe.

And then Justin was hauling him backwards, Ed's foot scraping uselessly agains the ground as he gasped and struggled, trying to kick but the gun jammed harder into his head. Roy cried out but it didn't stop them from pressing back against the wall furthest from the noises and the rumbling, the rumbling that was already spreading out into a spiderweb of splintering cracks throughout the stone and the rubble. Even in Ed's ascending panic he saw it, the thick and crumbling columns and walls across from them starting to splinter firelight, pulverize one after another, sparking with alchemic light-

And with that, just mere moments after Justin had dragged them away from Roy, the wall was blasted apart, and their tiny prison was breached in what Ed already knew would be the last time.

There was yelling and chaos; he saw guns and more alchemic light and an army of blue soldiers that he knew meant Roy, but it was all too much and Justin was dragging him and shouting again and Ed pressed his eyes shut with a near whine, gasping and trembling and _needing_ it all to stop. He shrank into himself, a scream catching desperately in his closed off throat but he was too scared to move, that damn _gun,_ he could still feel it right against his _head,_ and Justin was yelling and shaking him and his skin _crawled,_ oh god Justin was right there and all over him, he was right back where he'd started it was like he'd never gotten away at all he wanted it to stop he wanted it to _STOP-_

 _"Fullmetal! Fullmetal!"_

When Ed finally wrenched his eyes back open, trembling and torn and paralyzed at Roy's desperate scream, it was to an entirely different scene than he'd shut them on.

There was a new blinding light, the white overpowering him after so long of just a flickering, dying flame, the crumbling rock walls around them torn apart with something that just smelled like alchemy. There were soldiers, soldiers in Roy's blue that he didn't know, Armstrong, he thought frantically, that was Armstrong, the blue light of alchemy sparking around his hands, and Roy-

Roy was across the room, wavering on his feet and finally freed from the concrete, Hughes with him and pinning him back to his chest, holding the struggling bastard in place, one arm around him while the other had a knife- but Roy obviously didn't care. Roy was tugging at his arm in vain, panting and almost near tears, trembling as he fought to try and get to him while Ed was just as frozen in place as Roy.

"Let him go," Hughes said evenly. There was a strain there, barely noticeable under his voice but Ed saw it in how he still fought to hold Roy back, but he wouldn't have been able to tell just looking at his face; he looked calm and steady, in control, but that _wasn't helping,_ he could feel the gun on his _head-_ "Let him go or we will shoot. _Now._...Let him-"

"Fullmetal! _Fullmetal!_ Justin-" Roy cried again, struggling, "you- you son of a bitch- _don't touch him! Fullmetal!"_

" _Justin?!"_ Hughes gasped, shock gleaming in his eyes as his cold as ice, almost glazed over mask shattered into one of horror and disbelief. He glanced down at Roy, still held tightly against him, then back over to Ed, obviously stunned. "Wait, this- you're-"

Ed choked out a small, desperate whimper when the arm around his chest abruptly tightened, dragging him back closer as Justin pressed against the crumbling rubble and crammed the gun even harder into his skull. "Who I am doesn't matter. All you need to know is that I have your alchemist, and if you don't want him to get shot, you're going to stand down and let me pass." He paused for a moment, jostling Ed a little more, and this time the tiny noise of terror he felt die in his throat, choked off, he heard come out of Roy's just the same. "You're going to stand down _now!"_

 _No,_ Ed wanted to say- almost did. _No. No. No._ Every fiber of his being rebelled against it, every part of him screaming desperately for it to stop, because he _couldn't._ He couldn't he couldn't he _was not_ going back there, Justin couldn't take him, Roy- Roy was right _there,_ his brother was here, he'd clawed his way back to all of this and Justin _couldn't_ take him away from it again, he'd rather die than go back there, he couldn't do it he couldn't do this _stop stop stop just shoot him please don't let him do this DON'T LET HIM DO THIS-_

But they weren't moving. They weren't letting him go. Roy still was struggling, one arm tugging miserably at Hughes', but he certainly wasn't _backing down,_ and none of the others were, either. All the blue uniformed soldiers stayed right in place and Hughes stayed with Roy- and they weren't moving.

Ed saw that.

Unfortunately, so did Justin.

The alchemist dragged him back another desperate inch or two, his foot scraping uselessly against the ground, and with Ed held as close as he was he actually felt the short, almost panicked intake of breath behind him.

Because for the first time, something wasn't going as Justin had planned.

"Get- get out of my way, I said!" he shouted, but this time Ed heard the slight, almost panicked crack in his voice, the alarm, and the grip around him was suddenly bruisingly tight. "Do you understand me?! I'm not bluffing! _I'll shoot him!"_

"No, you won't..." Hughes forged on calmly, or at least as calmly as he could fake- but Ed's already panicked, splintered focus, this time, was pulled off of the investigator trying to negotiate his freedom, and instead onto the man he was holding back.

Because Roy still had one glove, and as Ed watched him, he realized that the bastard was now very intent on using it.

He was trying to go slow, hiding his plan from everyone else there, but Ed knew Roy, and he knew the slow, careful way he was moving his one gloved hand was anything but an accident. He saw it curling carefully, thumb and forefinger rubbing together in a lethal gesture that only Roy could make, held almost perfectly still by his side but ready to move at a moment's notice.

And that, more than any of the others on his side in this new terrifying standoff, was something he knew he could count on.

Jerkily, breaths still hitching in his chest, he forced his gaze up from the bastard's hand to his eyes.

Roy, unlike everyone else in the room, was watching him. Not Justin, but _him._

Roy knew that he'd seen his glove; he could read it in his eyes without even trying. Roy knew he'd seen what he was trying to do. But instead of nodding to him or perhaps mouthing something or trying to tell him to wait, to hang on just one second more and it would be over, instead the bastard just... looked at him. Just stayed frozen against Hughes' arm and stared to him imploringly with worried, almost frightened eyes as if trying to say something to him, desperately passing every silent word that he could for only Ed to hear.

And a moment later, because out of everyone in the world, _Roy,_ he knew- Ed got it.

He was trying to ask for his permission.

Roy knew that he knew what he was trying to do, and as he stood there silently across the room, still pinned by Hughes' arm and gloved hand still perfectly motionless by his side, Ed realized that that was how he was going to stay. If Ed told him no, then Roy _would_ stand down, and let Hughes continue to try to talk Justin into letting him go.

But the offer was there: Roy would do what he could to end this here and now, and all Ed had to do was let him.

He could miss. He could burn Ed as well as Justin. He could burn Ed and miss Justin entirely. He could hit the wall and bring even more rubble down on their heads. He could miss and tempt Justin into pulling the trigger. Any number of things could go wrong but there was only one way for it to go right, and only one instance of perfect control of his alchemy would allow for Roy to pull it off- a perfect control that he knew Roy was not confident that he had.

He was asking Ed if he was willing to take that risk.

Ed took in a deep, shuddering breath, and closed his eyes.

He trusted Roy.

That was all he needed to know.

Slowly, his heart piercing through with terrified, stuttering anguish, he nodded against the gun held to his head.

Roy stared back at him with dark, steady eyes, whatever terror he knew the bastard had to feel muffled under urgency. His mouth moved silently, desperate fear etched into every line of his pale face, and his gloved hand, again, tensed by his side.

Ed started to nod again.

And this time: the man he was pressed against, clutched so tightly it hurt and so close he could feel every flinch, every movement, every breath, the man who this very second held a gun to his head-

He felt it.

Justin stiffened a little against him again, hauling him backwards, the gun pressed harder against his skull. "What-" he heard him murmur, the panic and fear shuddering through the word, "What're you- _you?!"_ There was a ripple of confusion, of chaos; he started to pull the gun away as if to point it at Roy before it was suddenly jammed right back against his head, even harder than before and he felt him shaking, he saw the terror light up in Roy's eyes, he heard Justin gasping, faster and faster. The gun was trembling in his hair, ice cold and hot at the same time, there was more yelling and Roy looked so _scared,_ more scared than he'd ever seen him, somehow Ed couldn't see anything more than just that terrified look in his eyes as the gun pressed into him harder and Justin's arms grabbed at him harder and-

* * *

There was one single gunshot.

And Edward Elric fell forwards in Justin's arms: dead.


	29. Chapter 29

_"It's time for me to collect your toll, Edward Elric._

 _Make your payment."_

* * *

Roy saw him fall.

It was slow and inelegant, a limp sprawl of limbs against Justin's arm as his head was tossed to the side in a horrific spray of blood to loll like a broken doll's. His long hair fanned out with the momentum of one bullet, splashing over his small shoulders as the blood soaked them, and he just dropped against Justin's arm like a soulless puppet, head limp and hanging and body empty and still.

Roy saw him fall, straight into his murderer's arms- because he was dead.

For several moments, it was impossible to even breathe.

He was dead.

Justin had killed him.

Roy's thumb and forefinger, previously tensed and ready to snap, felt distant and numb. They trembled pathetically by his side, useless and far, far too late to matter.

Maes was touching him, he realized after a time, tugging him back because his feet were trying to drag him forward, to move to Ed, to pull him back and save him from that _monster_ touching him even if it was too late. Maes was pulling him back, Maes was trying to turn him away, to hide his face in his shoulder so he couldn't see, couldn't keep _staring-_

But it was all too late to matter.

Ed was gone.

Roy didn't even realize the choked, bloodcurdling, gasp of a scream came from him until it strangled itself to an end in a desperate, hollow sob.

He was gone.

There was more chaos and confusion, for a time. Yelling and shouting and more gunshots, Maes' arm still around him, and Ed just- just _flopping_ limply as Justin hauled him away again, foot dragging uselessly on the ground, head hanging like a puppet with its strings cut, bloodied hair showered over his face. Roy didn't really hear any of it. Just more noise, a cacophonous background symphony to the roaring in his ears as he stared at Ed.

More shouting. More screaming. More chaos.

Justin moved again, this time shoving Ed's body away as he tried to withdraw, escape. Roy's hand twitched spastically again, this time the forgotten fires that had tormented him for months flickering in his mind's eye- and god help him, he _wanted_ to see them. This time he remembered the screams of agony he knew he could call at just a snap of his fingers, and he _wanted them._

He wanted to see him torn to shreds, blasted apart into nothing, burnt alive and to ash, his heart ached with the need of it-

But what did it matter?

It was all too late.

It was all too...

Roy, his mind still caught in a tumultuous storm and his body feeling as if it was caught in a terrible freefall, his heart pounding through his chest and his glove hand shaking so hard it was as if he wanted to fall apart, stopped.

In the newly formed silence of the room, he stared at Ed.

Justin had shoved him away. Justin had shoved his dead body away as he'd pulled back, and left Ed entirely on his own.

So...

Why hadn't he fallen over?

Because, now entirely on his own, Justin not even touching him, _nothing_ and _nobody_ touching him at all- Ed was still standing. Perfectly upright, not even unbalanced with his just one leg, head still bowed and face still hidden but that bloodied bullied wound still boring through his skull.

An uncomfortable, eerie sort of silence fell.

This time, Roy was not the only one staring at him.

He opened his mouth, starting to call his name, but the uncertain word died in his dry throat.

He just stood there like an unnatural statue carved from marble, perfectly balanced on one leg alone, and perfectly upright even with blood still trickling down from one fatal gunshot carved straight through his head.

For several seconds, there was nothing. Not even Justin was moving now, his gaze just as rooted on Ed as the rest of the room's. While Ed just... strangely stood there. Unmoving and perfectly still, when by all accounts, such a thing should have not been possible.

And then:

He began to grow back his missing arm and leg.

They were limbs, Roy recognized amid the stunned gasps all around him, but they were not _human_ limbs. An eerie, otherworldly white- _something-_ ghostly particles collecting at his shoulder and thigh and solidifying into the shape of an arm and a leg, coalescing out of nothing until they'd formed two seamless, featureless, human but not limbs. He looked like a patchwork doll, most of him slumped and bleeding in place and fully human, but then just those two strange, unnatural _things_ sprouting out of him, fully an unnatural white...

And then, half human, half not, still balanced perfectly upright in a way that was creepily unsettling and certainly not something close to human at all, blood still gently trickling down into his hair... he raised his head.

Roy's heart stopped.

Ed was _alive._

Or... at least, there was something inside him that was.

Because that thing was _not_ Ed.

It smiled to him, it smiled at them all, but it wasn't Ed's smile. It wasn't small and mischievous, or bold and confident, maybe, inspiring one last bit of strength in him when he'd all but run out- it wasn't one of those slight but _familiar_ things that he knew so well. It was huge, almost too big for his face, and... and _wrong._ Too big, too sure, too _cruel_ to be Ed. And he looked at Roy, he looked around the whole room, but it was with eyes that weren't Ed's either.

Instead of that warm gold that he knew, it was the same cold, eerie, inhuman white nothingness of his new arm and leg.

It looked around at them all with inhuman, pupil-less white eyes, and it stood there on an inhuman, ghostly white leg with an arm to match, and it smiled a smile that was all teeth and no warmth, bullet hole crushed through his brain still leaking blood down his face and splattered on its forehead- definitively dead but at the same time, _alive._

Roy shivered hard, an involuntary jerk of terror that shook through him from head to toe, and slowly stepped a back against Maes.

Whatever that thing was, it was not Edward Elric.

 **"Greetings, alchemists,"** it said, and smiled even bigger.

Its voice, again, was not Ed's.

And its focus was not on him.

Slowly, awkwardly, almost like a possessed doll getting used to its limbs, the creature in Ed's body began to turn. Some part of Roy was immeasurably, selfishly relieved when those eyes were no longer on him- and that same part of him then promptly enjoyed the most delicious, anguishing schadenfreude at the look on Justin's face when Ed's terrifying gaze landed on him instead.

 **"Justin Everson."** Its voice echoed upon itself a thousand times, impossibly deep and inhuman, a chorus of a dozen voices coming out of his mouth alone and even when all Roy could see was the back of his head he _knew_ that terrible smile was broadening all over again. **"I have been wanting to meet you for a very long time."**

The alchemist again withdrew, pale-faced and wide-eyed and his face slack with shock. He hit the wall at his back and just kept on trembling, clearly at a horrified loss for words. This time, even with Maes' arm across his chest now gone completely slack, Roy didn't try to break free to follow him.

He didn't want to be anywhere _near_ whatever Ed was right now.

Justin jerked back, gasping and all but whimpering, and suddenly the gun was back in the air again, a gunshot banging through Roy's ears and the flash stuttering his heart- but this time was different than before. This time as horrible as the sight was he was able to keep watching and he saw how Ed didn't fall, didn't even _flinch_ when the bullet tore through his head and splattered blood and skin and hair.

He just stood there only half with his own limbs and he looked at Justin and he _smiled._

He smiled, and every alchemist's instinct in Roy's stricken body screamed to _get away._

 **"You sent another alchemist to meet me in your stead,"** Ed forged on ahead into the dusty silence, the only one to move in the space where all the rest had been frozen, paralyzed by his proclamation in that unnatural, too loud, too _wrong_ voice. **"You tried to circumvent equivalence by having another pay your price. You tried to cheating the Gate."** He paused for a moment, steady and sure, cold-hearted and perfectly still, that terrible smile still palpable in that unnatural voice alone.

And then, he laughed.

 **"There is no cheating equivalence, alchemist,"** he said, and reached forward to the man before him. Finger by finger, he removed the gun from Justin's suddenly slack, unresisting hand, taking it into his own- _his_ own, not Ed's, but that strange, unnatural white arm instead- and he raised it himself. Straight up and with a steady arm and aim that turned towards Justin's own head without the slightest hesitation. **"You have been taught the principle of equivalence since the day you drew your first array. You knew this. You knew that there is no cheating equivalence, and today, you and every alchemist complicit are going to pay the price that you tried to force another to pay."**

There was an impossible, horrifying moment of silence.

Then Ed, or whatever it was that had taken hold of his body and spoken using mouth and smiled at them from his face, pulled the trigger.

This time, it was actually fatal.

This time, Roy still crouched across the room and held back only by his own shock and his best friend's limp arm, stood there and watched as the man who'd taken away everything that he knew, tormented his body, scarred his mind, and torn his life apart, dropped dead from a single bullet.

Ed's body remained still for several moments more.

In fact, the entire room remained absolutely paralyzed, and Roy found himself utterly powerless to be any different.

Then he laughed again, a cold and careless, dismissive display, and the gun clattered to the ground like forgotten trash. Calmly, he knelt down before the slumped body before him, and unlike Ed had just minutes ago, Justin did not get up again. He reached one eerie white finger forward gently, touching it to his head like a mother might to a child... or, perhaps more accurately, like an owner to a pet.

 **"Humans,"** he said quietly, a distracted, dismissive sort of murmur. **"You all rely so heavily on the nature of equivalence, yet are always seeking to defy it. You always are reliant on a price to pay... without it, you'd fly straight to the heart of the sun."**

Roy's heart stumbled another beat, hammering impossibly hard and fast in his chest in a miserably unsettling mix of discomfort and terror. He didn't know what that meant... some of the words somehow rang true, but he didn't know what it was trying to say, or why it was saying it all...

But somehow, he felt as if the words were directed at _him._

But the thing was not looking at him, or even facing them at all. Instead it remained knelt down before Justin's slowly cooling, bleeding, dead, dead, _dead_ body, finger against the new wound on his head, too still to be natural. It just knelt there for several long moments, unmoving in the thick silence, blood still dripping down from those terrible wounds shot straight through his skull to mat his hair and stain his skin and lurch at Roy's heart.

Then, with another eerie sort of grin, because he had _never_ stopped smiling, the creature reached down to Justin's hand again- his gloved hand. The glove that Ed had taken from Roy, and Justin had taken from him. Slowly, with an unerringly sort of calmness and dexterity, he slid the glove off of the man's unmoving hand, and instead tugged it onto his own.

Again, not Ed's flesh and blood one, but instead the creature's ghostly, inhuman one.

He snapped once.

There was nothing- no sound or light or fire. There was nothing at all except Ed's newly gloved hand in the air, held perfectly still, thumb and forefinger still resting gently together. Roy wasn't sure what he'd expected but certainly not _that,_ the almost disturbing lack of heat or flame, but whatever it was that had happened, Ed seemed satisfied by it. The inhuman figure calmly lowered his gloved hand after several moments, neatly pivoting around to face them with that too big smile and those white, empty eyes, and Roy's heart lurched again.

 **"You will find,"** it said carefully, **"that every alchemist here today that supported what he did has now met his same fate. Equivalence has been settled, and balance, restored."** That nasty grin spread a little more again as that white, ghostly hand rose, lifting up towards the still bleeding bullet wound on Ed's head.

This time, there _was_ a red crackle of alchemy.

And before Roy's stunned eyes, the wounds _healed._

Tiny little red sparks of electricity just gathered around his fingers, no array in sight, Roy staring in shocked amazement as the ugly bullet wounds through his head sizzled and steamed and bit by bit actually closed. The blood was still there, matting his head and soaked through his shoulders, but the wounds themselves were vanishing before his very eyes, easing shut and melting into his skin like they'd never been there in the first place.

He would've been relieved, if he hadn't been paralyzed and rooted in place by the sheer impossibility of it all, and the terror of looking at Ed, at the _one person_ that he knew and could rely on and remember- and not seeing anything that he could recognize as him.

Not even when the boy then turned towards him on his ghostly leg, and walked towards him with his inhuman eyes and steady smile.

Maes made a small, alarmed noise next to them, finally coming back to life as if to stand in between them or push him back, but Ed didn't pay attention to him in the slightest He just side-stepped around the man like he was no more than a featureless pile of rubble to plant himself right before him, soulless white eyes only for Roy as he stared up at him from a face that did not belong to him and that sent spikes of cold fear straight through his heart.. That unnatural gaze pierced straight through him, like hot iron binding him into place or searing through his very soul, all-encompassing and all-knowing, and this time, when that smile broadened, Roy knew it was meant directly for him.

 **"I look forward to our next, and more genuine, meeting, Roy Mustang. And...** " He paused here, a gentle lilt in the unnatural cadence of his voice to allow him room for another private, perhaps crueler smile. **"Do tell Edward that I am looking forward to when next I meet him, _and_ his brother, as well."**

 _What...? Does he mean... Alphonse?_

Roy swallowed hard; his voice was utterly lost in his throat and at least a big part of him was much, much more content with letting his terror silence him and just hoping that- _thing-_ just got away from him as quickly as possible. "What do you mean?" he forced out, voice unsteady and in comparison with Ed's, suddenly frighteningly small. "What do you mean you're looking forward to... to meeting him? ...To meeting _me?"_

Ed's broad smile into something of a crueler smirk.

Then, he simply raised his ghostly hand, and waved.

 **"Until we meet again, alchemist."**

There was several moments of perfect silence, Roy rooted into place and Ed still unmoving, just looking at him with that unsettling smile and his hand still up in a wave. But there was something electric in the air, something that felt like it was changing, and then as Roy watched- Ed _did_ start to change. Little by little, the disturbing vestiges of whatever it was inside him started to fade- the ethereal glow about his arm and leg, that smile on his face, that light in his eyes. It was all slow and gentle, the softest fading of the ghostly aura around his limbs, the way his smile slowly slipped slack, but Roy found himself unable to look anywhere but into Ed's eyes.

Somehow, he knew that it would be there.

That was where he'd see the Ed he knew come back-

And he _was_ coming back.

He would not believe otherwise.

It happened bit by bit, at first. The slow way the white, empty glow that ate at everything began to recede in his eyes, dwindling first in intensity and then in size, undulating in on itself to collapse and the white fading grey like smoke. And that was all it was, for a heartstopping moment of terror, the death or exit of whatever that thing was but not the return of anything that he recognized, not the light of anything that meant _Ed,_ and for that one heartstopping moment Roy nearly cried out in agony.

Then Ed blinked, and when he opened his eyes, they were gold again.

Gold, and _alive._

There was a heartbeat of thick, impossible silence, in which Roy all but sagged with relief, and really might have collapsed if not for Maes' now completely limp and useless arm.

In retrospect, it was probably a good thing that he didn't, because the first thing that Ed said, in a voice that was dazed and distant but so wonderfully _entirely his own,_ "Truth is such a magnificent _bastard,"_ and then the first thing he did was collapse.

Roy broke free of Maes in an instant, dragging himself forward on his numb legs to catch him before he hit the floor, one arm grabbing around him and the other cushioning behind his head. He made it just in time, Ed dropping into his arms barely an inch before he'd have hit the rocky ground, obviously faint and dazed and now shivering, but _alive,_ and Roy was so relieved he wanted to sob. "Fullmetal?" he half-asked, half-begged, shaking him as roughly as he dared, "Fullmetal? Is t-that- is that you? Fullmetal?"

Ed didn't answer for several moments, still blinking confusedly up at him with unfocused eyes and working his jaw like he'd forgotten how to speak. He wasn't gone, not like before, but Roy couldn't tell how present he was, either, and with each passing second the uncertain cloudiness on his face got more and more worrisome. Anxiety clenched around Roy like a vice, squeezing through him as Maes knelt down beside him to share a distressed look, clearly just as troubled as he was. "Come on, let's lay him down-" his friend started, already moving to help him.

Being touched and moved again, however, seemed to be all that was needed to shake Ed out of his daze.

His whole face brightened, the clouded stare clearing like the sun burning out after a rainstorm, and suddenly he was beaming, beaming as if all his troubles had just been vanquished in one fell swoop. "Truth," he said again, "is a magnificent _bastard,"_ then let out a short, startled laugh, so sudden it was jarring, and was still laughing as he flung himself forward to wrap an arm around Roy's back.

Roy stiffened, almost flinching in alarm at the sudden hug. Ed was still laughing against him, and by all means he sounded perfectly fine, more lighthearted than Roy had ever even seen him- but he was now hiding his face in his shoulder and hugging him tightly and shaking, and that _couldn't_ be normal. He sounded almost hysterical, Roy realized with another note of alarm, his stomach shifting uneasily as he uncertainly, lightly hugged him back, at a loss. Maybe... maybe he just needed a few minutes to calm down and reorient himself, that was all... really, who wouldn't? It had been terrifying for _Roy,_ and he'd been on the outside- he couldn't imagine how Ed felt, actually living through whatever the hell had just happened to him.

But Ed was just laughing and shaking his head into his shoulder, trembling faintly with the force of it but undeniably _fine._ Now he was even mumbling to himself, Roy realized, soft words under his breath, a muted, "...so _simple,_ I can't believe it, it's just so simple..." and Roy found himself even more lost than before.

"Fullmetal...?"

At last, with another great heaving breath, Ed pushed himself back, shaking his bloody hair out of his eyes with a smile that was small and bright and confident and _all Ed._ "Don't worry about me," he managed somehow, all but gasping the words out between chuckles. "I'm fine. Promise. Totally fine."

"You don't sound fine, Ed," Maes broke in, again trying to reach a hand out. His face was tense and worried, green eyes narrowed as he looked between him and Roy once more. "Maybe you should-"

"No- nope. No. I'm okay, Lieutenant Colonel." He ran a still shaking hand through his hair, still with a bewildered sort of smile as he stared up at Roy, seemingly barely able to even toss a glance Maes' way even as he addressed him. "Promise I'm fine, but you can fuss over me all you want in a minute, okay? For now, can you give me and Mustang a moment alone? I actually really need to talk to him about something."

"What-" Roy blanched, staring between Ed and Maes in complete confusion now, wholly taken aback how Ed seemed to be the only one just taking the absolutely bewildering and terrifying mindfuck of what had just happened in stride like it was nothing more than a blip on the radar. "Fullmetal, you're not making sense..." Carefully he folded a hand back down on his shoulder, trying to make sure he had a way to keep him steady in case he should fall again. "Maybe- maybe we should have someone look at you, just in case- your brother, that should be okay, right? Maes, can someone go get Alphonse?"

His best friend nodded worriedly, already casting a dark glance around as if in search of a soldier to order to that very task, but Ed did not seem satisfied with that response. Far from being put at ease by the mention of his brother's name, in fact, he actually seemed more agitated now, narrowing his eyes in something of a glare as he worked himself to his knee. "Hang on, I said I was fine- bastard, I'm serious! I need to talk to you about something! _You,"_ he went on, frowning at Maes, "don't you go anywhere, I need to talk to Mustang before Al."

Again, Roy found himself frowning, an uncertain anxiety clenching around his heart again. Somehow, Ed coming back absolutely, totally _Ed,_ confident and brazen and talking and seemingly perfectly untouched by his ordeal, was more concerning than if he'd come back needing to calmed down or in tears. He didn't know how to handle this and increasingly found himself as unsettled as he thought Ed should be. Slowly, he dropped another hand on Ed's shoulder that was meant to calm himself more than the confident alchemist before him, heart pounding to a tune of uncertainty, and he shared another anxious glance with Maes. His friend seemed just as troubled as Roy, and Roy found himself now even more sure of himself that someone needed to go track down his brother.

Ed glared around at both of them, bright eyes still narrowed and alive with so much intelligence and sudden strength it was all but breathtaking. "Haven't you guys learned to listen to me yet? Come on, it's been years, and I'm _always_ right..."

The words were confusing, just like everything else Ed had said so far, but this time it took Roy a few seconds to key on directly as to _why._ And even then it was a vague, distant sort of a realization, barely managing to register underneath the more pressing awareness of just what the hell Ed was doing with his hand.

Because when Ed had apparently realized his words weren't going to get him anywhere, he had instead focused in on the blood on his finger, and begun to draw something on the ground. Drawing a... a _circle._ It was an array, Roy realized in shock, a neat circle with perfect little symbols arranged inside, drawn with a perfectly steady hand as if by muscle memory alone.

As if he... _remembered..._

And then, without even a moment of hesitation, Ed reached out to forcefully tug him forward with one hand, planting him firmly by his side, then slapped his hand down on the array.

The wall shot up out of the ground so fast and with such a sudden crackle of blue alchemy in nearly knocked Roy in the head.

That was what it was, Roy realized in shock, a solid neatly formed stone wall that split in between them and the entire rest of them in barely more than a heartbeat. A chorus of alarmed shouting split his ears, calling out from the other side of Ed's wall and Maes foremost among them, calling out while Roy just sat there in shock, but Ed plainly had been ready for this turn of events, too.

"I told you!" he shouted, "I told you I had to talk to Mustang!"

 _"Ed... Edward Elric, you take down this wall right now! Ed!"_ There was a fist pounding on the wall, then fingertips scrabbling along the top as if Maes were trying to vault himself over, and with absolutely no success. "Roy, are you okay? Is _Ed_ okay? What's going on?!"

"I- I d-don't-"

"I told you, Hughes, everything's fine! And your friend is also fine, but he'll be even better in a second if you just let me talk to him!"

Roy stared in a now escalating panic, because Ed was _way_ too confident to be normal now and he was starting to think that something was actually seriously wrong with him. Whatever had possessed him had done some sort of damage underneath the surface and something was _not right_ with him, and now it was entirely down to Roy to keep him calm and safe until the others got through that wall. As much as he wanted to believe that Ed was okay, he _wasn't,_ and he couldn't go on pretending that he was no matter how much easier it would be.

So when Ed turned back to him this time, evidently settled on ignoring Maes now in favor of whatever it was that was so important he'd gotten them off alone, Roy did not let him. When Ed reached out to grab him by the shoulder, using it to push himself upright, Roy grabbed his hand instead, both supporting him and stopping him from drawing another array in the same grasp.

"What-" Ed started, trying to pull his hand free, his brow furrowing when he could not. "What, you too? Come on, Mustang, I know you're a bastard, but don't start pulling _this_ kind of shit on me, Hughes and Al are overprotective enough already..."

Roy just shook his head slowly, the too confident, too easygoing words brushing over his head to not even touch the chaotic worry nestling deep inside him, and the fear that something was just not _right_ with him. He knelt and searched into Ed's almost too bright eyes, one hand still gripping his while the other moved to his face, resting lightly against his cheek to nudge him up by his chin and thumb over his cold, cold skin.

There was no glimpse of that ghostly white, eerily grinning creature from before, nothing in there that didn't strike him as genuine. His eyes were clear and the glow was gone, and the smile had transformed into an exasperated, impatient sort of glower that was so very, very _Ed._ Everything about him was so perfectly, wonderfully, beautifully Ed, alive and present and well...

And somehow, all of this only intensified the concern tightening in his chest.

"I... look, Fullmetal," he cautioned gently, swallowing hard as he pushed lightly at the kid's face again, keeping him there and refusing to let him break away. "I know you're upset, but, but after what just happened- what you just _did-"_ His breath caught in his throat, stumbling over the horrible memory of Ed grinning cruelly with white eyes and a gun in his hand a blood in his hair, and this time something near panic caught around him again. "God, what _was_ that? What just happened?! Do you even know, I- what was that thing, why did it... it talked like it knew you! Fullmetal-..."

The kid, however, simply averted his eyes, shoulders hunching a little with an almost nervous stare. The steady confidence flickered away for the first time and he withdrew into himself just a little more, equal parts frustration and uncertainty glimmering in his eyes. "It's... it's complicated," he muttered under his breath,, glaring to the floor. He tugged a shaky hand through his matted hair, again still refusing to meet Roy's eyes but now simply dodging the question; there was no denying that now. "Look, it's- it's really complicated, and even if I tried to explain it now you wouldn't get half of it- god damn it, Mustang, this all will become _a lot_ simpler if you just let me do what I have to do. You'll understand in a few minutes, okay? Just let me do my thing."

"Your- your _thing._ Your _thing?_ What even does that _mean?_ Fullmetal-"

Roy broke off, interrupted by the sounds of rubble shifting outside. He could hear Maes yelling something in the distance, probably someone to come over here and bring Ed's wall down. Somehow, while Roy knew that was supposed to relieve him, he only found himself growing more and more uneasy, and when he looked back down at Ed, it was clear he was not alone in his sentiments.

But this Ed, unlike the Ed he'd grown over so many months of suffering to know so well, was not beaten down by the uncertainty.

This Ed was emboldened.

 _This_ Ed was stronger.

 _This_ Ed pushed a hand onto his shoulder again, eyes bright like fire as he used it to rise up to his one leg, balancing before him and staring down at him with enough determined, burning confidence to simultaneously silence Roy's protest in his throat and reassure him more than any sound of Maes outside ever could have. "Mustang," he started steadily again, then stopped, brow furrowing. "...Roy."

Roy, something wordless and taken aback catching in his throat, fell silent.

Even with whatever that thing that had been in him gone, his gaze was somehow even more powerful than before.

"Roy, you told me once before that I had to trust you. You saved my life that night. Well... this time you have to trust me." He paused gravely for a moment, still looking him right in the eyes and as sure of himself as Roy had ever seen him. "Okay?"

Once again, the steady words and absolute, unwavering determination in his eyes silenced any protest that he ever might've been able to give.

He remembered. He remembered, without Ed even having to remind him. The night that they'd broken free and ran for their lives, the very same night that Ed had had to watch Roy have the tattoo burned straight off of his back, and know he was going to have to suffer through the same fate himself.

He remembered that the only reason he'd gotten Ed over that line was because Ed had trusted him.

And he looked at Ed again, he stared over his blood matted hair but healed skin, he searched into his piercing, confident eyes, and he remembered what he had just seen him do. He remembered seeing Ed stand up as a half ghostly demon, gleeful murder in his eyes and smile, laugh in a voice that was not his own, and pull the trigger.

He looked at Ed, and did not see any of that thing anymore.

He saw the child that he knew, at heart, he trusted.

Roy took in a deep, slightly shuddering breath, and nodded.

There was a moment of tense, guarded silence. Ed continued to watch him, now with slightly narrowed eyes as if prying through him to ensure there was not even a hint of a lie.

Then, the alchemist squeezed his shoulder, and grinned back.

"Then do me a favor, Roy, and stay right there. Just for a minute... everything'll be fine if you can just manage to give me just one minute." Still grinning, yet almost wickedly, now, Ed continued to use his shoulder to move, this time limping around him to reach his back. "I told you, Truth is a magnificent bastard," he went on, raising his voice slightly now so Roy could still hear him even without seeing him. "He planned all of this, the son of a bitch... you know how nobody could figure out how Justin's array worked, Roy? How they said his old version wouldn't work, but while he obviously had a new version that worked, because it worked on us, nobody could figure out _how?_ "

"I- yes." Wincing, Roy shifted a little on his knees, unable to help a prickle of unease knowing Ed was staring at him from behind. What was Ed going on about now? What was _any_ of this about? "And...?"

"Well. I'm pretty sure I know how it works now."

Again, there was a startled, dead moment of silence.

Then, Roy nearly whirled around in shock, another stunned gasp driving itself from his chest, and would've succeeded had Ed's hand not landed right back on his shoulder and kept him still. "Y-you- you _what?!"_ he coughed instead, because that was _impossible- "_ Fullmetal, how-"

"Because Truth is the best teacher in the dammed world," Ed laughed, hand shifting from his shoulder to move over his back again. "He's also a monster, god help you if you get an answer wrong, but nobody knows more than he does, and I really think he had all of this planned from the beginning, now. He may not like me, but he _really_ hated Justin."

Roy shook his head slowly, the shock pressing anything coherent straight out of his head to instead make room for a blank, utterly empty slate of disbelief. What the hell was going _on?!_

But Ed was already going on, his hand still searching over his back. "His old array didn't work because it relied on human transmutation. Remember, they told us that...? Well, all that means is he had to modify it. In his case, I think all he had to do was make it so it wasn't permanent. His old array was set to permanently wipe someone's memory, but he fixed it. His new one would've had to merely _block_ someone's memories, so they could come back... but to do _that,_ you need a set of two partner arrays. One to block the memories, one to get rid of that block. But, Roy, arrays that work on the body are pretty messed up to begin with. They're complicated and full of potential to go wrong and without safeguards-"

"Fullmetal, what the _hell_ are you talking about?"

"-and you just- ...sorry." Ed laughed nervously, the hand at his back now cuffing him on the arm again as if in apology, but he certainly didn't _sound_ apologetic. Roy could still hear the excitement and thrilled smile just barely held back in the faint tremblings of his voice, for god's sake. "Look, I just found out _a whole bunch_ of stuff all at once and it's cool as fuck and I need to talk it through but- but you're right. We don't need this now. Yeah." He sighed heavily, as if that might somehow help him calm down a little, then brushed at his shoulder again. "Point is. To work, this array would need to be kept on us somehow for it to work. Preferably somehow drawn on the skin."

With all of Ed's fast-paced ramblings, most of them blurring way over his head, it took Roy several moments for those words to sink in. But when Ed paused in a weighted silence, clearly expectant and waiting for him to get it, he founded himself mulling uneasily back over the rushed sort of lecture, searching and sifting through the words for meaning, struggling to hunt through all that he didn't understand to find something that he did-

And then, he gaped.

"The... the tattoos," he breathed.

Ed squeezed his shoulder again. "Exactly."

Roy continued to gape uselessly into the wall before him. His back abruptly stung, and this time it had nothing to do with whatever it was that Ed was doing behind him.

"B-but," he gasped finally, "but those got burned off- when we broke out, they-"

"No, _something_ got burned off," Ed corrected. "It was probably another partner array... pretty complicated, but you can set up a border of sorts, draw a circle and not allow your marked object to cross the lines. For all I went at him for, the asshole was actually a pretty good alchemist." The kid laughed shortly again, but this time the sound quickly sobered as heh returned his hand to his back. "My point is, this whole time, we assumed that's what those tattoos were for. And, well... they _were._ Partially, anyway."

Roy shook his head slowly. God, he was _completely_ overwhelmed now. "Are you saying there's a second tattoo somewhere?" he asked slowly, again resisting the urge to turn around. "But wouldn't we have seen it by now? Or someone else? A tattoo can't exactly be that easy to hide, we looked everywhere when we first met, we didn't see anything else-"

"Right," Ed cut in, and this time, with a hint of satisfied, almost smug triumph. "We looked everywhere." He patted his back with one quick almost slap of his palm, hand returning steadily back to rest steadily again on his shoulder. "Except for underneath the first tattoo."

 _"...What?"_

"Underneath the first tattoo," Ed repeated, as if saying it again made it magically make more sense than the first time. "It'd be simple. Justin would've drawn the first array on us, given it a few days to heal, and when it was settled and working properly, he would've drawn the second right on top of it. So now that we've burned the second one away..."

Roy stared into space again, his heart pounding but mind, suddenly racing. He itched to turn around, to drag off his suddenly constricting uniform as if he might be able to see it for himself, but now that he thought about it...

Nobody had seen what they looked like without the tattoos. At first the bandages and burns had obscured everything from view, and Maes had tried to work with them, but Roy had refused anything more than the fewest cleanings and examinations than he could scrape by with, and he knew Ed had done the same. Nobody had so much as gotten close enough to look a them in days. Roy knew the last time he'd let Maes see them had on his own back had been sometime last week , and even that had only been for a precious few minutes while Maes helped him clean the still healing burns.

If there actually was a second tattoo underneath the first... nobody would've seen it.

 _Which..._

 _Which means..._

Roy's breath caught again, and his eyes widened.

Had the key to everything been on his very back, his very _skin,_ this entire time?

Was _this_ the moment that they'd spent so long fighting for?

Once again, his sudden, stunned attempt to turn around was stopped by Ed's bracing hand on his shoulder. "I told you everything would make sense in a few minutes," the kid promised, and now Roy could feel his hand moving, splaying gently across the center of his back with the lightest of pressures yet tickling a bolt of electricity up his spine all the same. "Well... if I'm right, then- I really did mean _everything._ " He paused for a moment again, hand pushing gently still at his back. "You ready, Roy?"

This time, Roy's answer had no hesitation.

* * *

When Alex Louis finally brought Ed's wall down, it was not a moment too soon, because Maes had been about to have a heart attack from the prolonged wait of it all.

(His third heart attack of the day- the first being when HQ had been attacked, and the second when he'd found out Ed and Roy had, _once again_ , gone missing.)

When Alex Louis finally brought Ed's wall down, however, it was not to any sight that lived up to any of his ramped up fears that had presently been racing into overdrive.

There was no terrible creature possessing Edward again- or Roy, for that matter. They were both fully themselves. They were both not hurt.

In fact, they were both sitting casually on the dusty floor, Ed leaning slightly into Roy's shoulder with blood in his hair slowly staining into his uniform, but clear-eyed, clear-headed... and grinning his ass off like Maes' third heart attack had been a magnificent prank and he'd pulled it off. And Roy sat next to him much the same, utterly, almost infuriatingly calm, cross-legged and pale face arranged in almost a dazed grin, one arm loose around Ed's shoulders while the other curled around his glove in his lap.

Maes gazed down at them, absolutely dumbstruck.

And Roy smirked right back up at him.

He _smirked._

"Took you long enough," he said smugly, and his smirk broadened even more.

The anxious fear that gathering inside him until now, tightening his stomach into knots and hammering his heart into a frantic drum, leaving him with clammy hands and an ever escalating terror, catapulted to an abrupt halt.

A halt that this time, was tempered just a bit with his own disbelieving anger.

They were... fine?

They were completely, totally fine, to the point that they had been just _sitting there_ calmly together on the floor and waiting for him to break through?

 _What?_

At Roy's calm snark, Ed nearly cracked up beside him, shoulders shuddering with a brief wave of laughter as he ducked his head, hiding his face with his hair. "You are such a _bastard,"_ he said, still chuckling- and Roy continued to grin.

"Yes," the colonel said simply. Proudly, even. "I am."

A vein pulsed in Maes' forehead, and for a moment, he wondered if those two were going to- were perhaps _trying_ to- stress him into an aneurysm.

Without another word from his goddamned bastard of a best friend, Roy then dropped his arm from around Ed's shoulders to help him upright, the both of them standing before him and still all too irritatingly confident for Maes to bear it. They both worked themselves to their feet, the colonel dusting himself off in a business-like manner while Ed aggressively pushed his hair back, barely even leaning on him anymore as he faced ahead with eyes like iron...

But something was different.

It was a lack of something, Maes realized a moment later, watching Roy neatly tug his gloves back tightly on his hands with an unerring air of neatness and confidence, watching Ed limp forward but without clinging to Roy's side the way he had grown so used to seeing. It was a lack of the hesitation, the uncertainty, the wariness as they searched each room for danger with hooded eyes and the quiet, muted fear that they both looked to him- to _everyone_ \- with, because in this delicate, painful aftermath, they were all strangers to them, and they trusted no one but themselves.

All of that was gone.

And in its place was a confidence, assuredness, and determination that he didn't know how badly he had been missing until it was back.

For the first time since they'd both gone missing, he actually felt like he was looking at Ed and Roy again.

"Well, Maes?" Roy asked, clearing his throat and giving both of his gloves one last, final tug. "Are you going to yell at us, or are you going to let us get back to it instead?" He gave him a sly glance out of the corner of his eye, smirk twitching again. "After all... I presume there's still some clean-up to be done.

There was another pause, this once broken once again by Ed's suppressed laughter and very obvious roll of his eyes, the younger alchemist nudging at his side and muttered something under his breath. Roy, however, continued to watch him instead of responding to Ed's ribbing, and a heartbeat later his smirk started to fade, instead replaced by a smaller, more genuine sort of a smile. "I did miss you, Maes. And... before you yell at Ed, you should know, he's the only reason I remember you now enough to know I better start running before you go off on us both. So at least go easy on him, okay? You know that Al's probably going to lecture him enough for us both regardless."

Maes stared at him blankly for another absolutely stunned breath of silence.

Then, still utterly overwhelmed, absolutely lost, and with not any single damn _clue_ as to how any of this had happened, he simply did what he had now been waiting to do for weeks, and flung one quick arm around Roy's shoulders to pull him into a crushing hug, and let the other fall to rest his hand down on the top of Ed's beaming head.

"Welcome back, you two."


	30. Chapter 30

Thanks so much for all the reviews along the way! Final chapter!

There is also more beautiful art now for this fic! In addition to the cover art, there's now two more arts up on my tumblr (ranowa-fanart-dump); go check them out, because they're WONDERFUL!

Anywho, to clarify something, this fic takes place in the brotherhood verse, so a few unanswered questions crop up this chapter that are actually answered in canon- they are NOT little hints from me to suggest a sequel. I have no such plans for a sequel especially after how long this monster took me to complete. They are meant to be unanswered questions for Ed and Roy, not for us :)

It's been a really long ride! Hope it was fun for all of you to the end, and hopefully I'll see you next time! Enjoy!

* * *

 _Five weeks later_

Roy, with an absentminded, tired sort of sigh, poured himself and stirred his third cup of coffee for the day. Before noon. He frowned down at it on autopilot, barely registering the bitter bite without his usual cream that he hadn't had the will to buy more of, and released another shuddering sigh. His tired, sore shoulders slumped.

Today was the day.

Today was the day, that Ed and Al were going back to Risembool.

It had been four weeks, since the tight control of martial law had been lifted over the city. Travel restrictions had remained, preventing Ed's return home until now.

The day after the military had entered the martial law restrictions in the city, Roy had returned to his own apartment- and some part of him had been silently, immeasurably relieved that he'd been able to find it. The jokes that he'd been able to find Maes' home yet not his own had stayed their welcome just a bit too long. Before then, he and Roy had continued to say with his aunt, both because, in all their skittish dodges of questions and uncertain smiles, it had been plain to see that their friends had been worried about leaving them alone...

And, at least a little bit, because _Roy_ hadn't wanted to be alone, either.

But the day had finally come, and, with the promise of near daily visits from his best friend and staff to check up on him, Roy had, at long last, gone home.

Ed and Al had followed not even an hour later.

Al, because wherever his brother was, these days, he was too, and there was no question about it. And Ed, because, for all his bravado and shows of confidence, it had been plainly obvious that he'd had no interest in going back to stay in a cramped dorm room surrounded by soldiers he barely knew and that the fears he'd wanted to avoid. Maes had offered his guest room almost immediately, but by the quick, almost reflexive look of apprehension on Ed's face, Roy hadn't been surprised when the kid had turned it down.

Ed... wasn't doing too well.

To put it mildly.

He was still without an arm and a leg; still without even the easier, more temporary prostheses that could've made his life easier before he got his automail back. This time it had been Havoc who had offered it, Maes seeming to have thought better of it while Roy had never been so stupid in the first place.

Ed had put his foot down with the startled, upset vehemence of a cornered animal, and after that refused to even let Gracia check on his back for another three days after that.

Gracia, a nurse, was still the closest they'd been able to get Ed to a doctor or hospital since he'd gotten his memories back. Roy couldn't judge him for it, because he wasn't any better himself.

The panic that clenched in his chest at the thought of sitting still in an antiseptic smelling, sterile white room, for a stranger to come in and pry and prod and control...

Roy shuddered again, all but inhaling his next sip of coffee to try and forestall the chill crawling up his spine. It didn't even come close to working.

He imagined it was going to be a while yet before he'd be okay with such a thing, and Ed was clearly no different. The only reason his subordinate was going to be able to handle getting his automail back at all was because he already knew and trusted Winry with his life, and- perhaps more importantly- he already saw the Rockbell's shop as a sort of safe place. A home.

Not a hospital.

He knew Al was worried about it. He knew from the hushed, secret phone conversations he'd overheard between Al and Winry that his automail mechanic was now worried about it too. He overheard all the ways Al was trying to prepare Winry for how Ed might react, all the ways she was going to try and accommodate him before Ed had even stepped off the train. He knew Ed knew, in the sullen way the kid refused to talk about it, and the way he either buried his face in a book or almost desperately changed the subject whenever it came up.

Roy, however, wasn't worried.

He felt he had no right to be, when so much of what he saw in Ed's eyes, he knew was mirrored in his own.

Sure, perhaps Roy had a better handle on it than Ed did, he mused, staring into his murky reflection in the dark brown of his mug. But that was only to be expected. Roy was older than him, Roy was more experienced than him, Roy was simply _better off_ than him as he recovered while still having all his limbs, without having to rely on others for help...

And sometimes, late at night, Roy would remember how he'd found Ed: insensate, shivering, and with eyes like the dead, left in a straitjacket in a padded cell.

He was reluctant to admit it, even to himself, but the most likely reason that Ed was having so much more trouble than he was, was simply that he'd been treated so much more badly than Roy had. Roy considered this darkly ironic, seeing as he only one Justin and his Ishvalans had had a grudge against was him. Ed had been snatched up by mere necessity, Justin probably hadn't cared what happened to Ed so long as he could his array... but here they were.

He still didn't like being left alone. He could do it now, he could tolerate it for a few minutes or however long he had to, but only because his brother was in the apartment to mitigate it at all times. He still didn't sleep well, some nights waking Roy up as he moved throughout the apartment because he wasn't sleeping at all and some days would just be sullen and upset and withdraw into a book without talking to any of them at all.

And Roy...

Roy, as much as he hated it, couldn't do nearly anything about it.

He had returned to the office almost immediately, taking charge as best he could no matter how unsettled his footing was and how uncomfortable he felt with every eye that turned to him. Under normal circumstances, he probably would've been barred from doing so before being cleared, physically and mentally- and at this point, probably alchemically as well-but with the military still in upheaval, he'd been able to worm his way around it for now. This was simply not an opportunity that he could pass up to be present and make a name for himself. When the next round of promotions came around, he did _not_ want his superiors to think of this crisis, read the name Roy Mustang, and struggle to remember him doing anything more than flitting in and out of the infirmary.

That was... certainly part of it, yes, he reluctantly admitted to himself. That was part of it.

And there was also more to it.

The military was up to something, and whatever it was: Roy did not like it. .

Before Ed had helped him recover his memories, Maes telling him that Fuhrer Bradley had gone missing in the intervening months between his disappearance and the culmination of this civil war had barely made an impact. Fuhrer Bradley had not be a name to make an impression on him, and that news had been heard and swiftly categorized as near irrelevant.

Now, however, things were different.

And especially in light of how everything had been resolved.

The day of the assault on HQ, Roy had tugged on his gloves and turned to face the music, ready and willing to fight once again. Maes had gone with him, Ed sticking by his side until Al could join them, finally ready for the first time in months to stand up for themselves again.

Except that it had already been over.

According to eyewitness accounts- and that was all they had, because the man himself wasn't talking- Bradley had returned the day of the assault like a demon summoned from hell. No one had seen where he'd come from, no one had seen how he'd appeared, but he'd just _been there,_ arriving there in perfect uniform with not an escort or a hair out of place. He'd appeared to simply walk down the torn streets of Central, cleanly decimating his way through any and all resistance that'd he met, and when he'd reached HQ...

There'd been dozens of rebels amassing outside. The tide of the battle had already turned against them and they'd been on the run, but it had been a sizable mass that would've taken hours to safely corral and contain, or a bloody and drawn out firefight to bring the battle to an end by eradicating the other side. But Bradley had reached HQ, strolling down the street like it was nothing more than an afternoon walk on a summer day-

And he'd slaughtered them all.

He'd torn through dozens of soldiers with their gunfire and their alchemy with nothing more than a single sword, and he'd killed every last one of them.

In mere _minutes._

Then he'd turned around, asked why the doors to his castle were crumbling and if his staff could get on that, and calmly requested for his dumbstruck secretary to bring him some tea.

The public statement was that Fuhrer Bradley, in all his magnificence and unparalleled bravery and skill, had singlehandedly defeated the invading army and saved the city. Saved the _country._ There'd already been an honorary parade scheduled and statue plans drawn up. From what Roy had heard, this was also the prevailing belief in the military, at least among the enlisted men... there'd been so much demand at the Academy for saber classes they'd had to hire three extra instructors.

Roy was not so easily convinced.

In his mind, it was quite simple: Fuhrer Bradley had vanished without a trace when the country had needed him most, evidently telling absolutely _no one_ in the military his whereabouts, and stayed vanished for months. Not a single soul in the country had reported so much as a whiff of where'd he been. Only to conveniently materialize on scene to stride back in like a hero on a white horse in their darkest hour... and somehow not only fight his way through an actual army with nothing more than a sword, but do so with such an inhuman level of strength and speed that he'd apparently singlehandedly ended the citywide bloody combat without so much as a _scratch._

All to not only end the battle, but permanently silence every last one of the rebels... the rebels that Justin himself had told them knew things about their government that the military would not want to get out.

Roy didn't have an explanation for it, as of yet. There was too much that remained unknown, too many questions, not enough answers or sense- and that wasn't even including the military's continued silence on the loophole that had allowed State Alchemists to create gold, the loophole that Roy didn't believe Bradley hadn't been fully aware of and abused for a _second._ But he, Maes, and Hawkeye were already in tacit agreement that Bradley was not the hero of this story, and might well already be planning another one where he played an even worse role than he had that day. By the unsettled ease that seemed to permeate the offices of his other colleagues and superiors whenever the subject got brought up, he also knew that they were not the only ones.

This was not a time where Roy could afraid to lay idle.

Even his staff had had to finally admit that, as much as they'd wished otherwise. And Roy _knew_ that they wished otherwise. It was not a coincidence that Hughes always wandered by one or two times a day, usually harassing him to join him for lunch, or that Hawkeye was _always_ knocking on his door by five, all but ordering him to put his work down so she could drive him home. It was not a coincidence how closely all his staff watched him, and how they practically summoned his adjutant or best friend whenever he so much as looked distressed, never mind actually being upset or needing their support.

He knew they were worried about him.

He recognized the concerned, sympathetic way they looked at him now as most likely very similar to how he looked at Ed.

He also didn't have the will to protest about it, because in at least some ways, he knew it was warranted. Hell, in their shoes? He'd probably be worried about him, too.

But, he thought, smoothing his shirt down in a decidedly business-like manner, there was no room for him to focus on that now. Not with the military entirely absorbing his days and then coming home to navigate the new, uncertain dynamic with Ed and his brother in the night.

But... that was at last coming to an end.

Ed was headed back to Risembool with his brother, and by all indications, he was not planning on coming back for a very long time.

Roy would've been lying, if he'd said he wasn't the least bit apprehensive about the lonely shadows that were about to encroach over the entirety of his apartment. It already felt far too similar to those final weeks in that hospital, when he and Ed had been separated and he'd not have any idea when (or _if)_ he'd ever see him again. What he was going through.

If he was still alive.

It was necessary, though, and he was not going to protest. Roy's home was here, in Central. Ed's was not. Roy's family was here, at HQ, at the Hughes home, at his aunt's bar. Ed's was not.

And Ed needed to be somewhere familiar and with his family as much as Roy did right now, no matter how unwilling either were to admit it.

Because all Ed had in Central right now was the newly uncertain, difficult, nearly unbreachable dynamic that had persisted between him and Ed since that day Ed had given him his memories back, and still persisted even now, in the dark silence of his apartment.

He frowned sullenly into the remains of his cup of coffee.

Today was going to be his last chance to break that dynamic.

It was time for him to finally break his silence.

With one last quick swallow, Roy settled the ceramic mug back down on his counter with a soft, cold sort of clunk, steeled himself with a long, deep breath, and turned himself around to proceed back to his living room.

Ed, as Roy had fully expected, remained settled and sunk back deeply into the corner of his couch. All he could see of him was the very top of his blond head, the whole rest of him buried underneath the thickness of a spare blanket, and all he could hear was that soft _scritch scratching_ of a pencil into that consistently growing alchemy notebook of his. His packed suitcase waited on the floor beside him, and Al's beside it... Roy had gone with them to help, and therefore knew the brothers had cleaned the dorm room out. He wasn't sure if they'd even left any of their meager possessions behind.

Something unhappy settled around his heart again, weighing him down like an anchor, and his shoulders slumped.

He really didn't think Ed was planning on coming back.

Roy cleared his throat a little, turning Ed's attention to him as he slowly drew forwards to join him. "So you're ready to go, then?" he asked, casting another wary eye over his luggage, then back to the slumped figure on his couch. A single distracted, downcast nod. "Just waiting on Alphonse?"

Ed nodded slowly again, continuing to frown down at his notes rather than look up at him. He kept writing for a few moments, brow furrowing in concentration as he tried to finish whatever his train of thought was, then finally dotted the sentence done and looked up, pushing the pencil back into his braid for some sort of sloppy safekeeping. "He promised he'd call to update no matter what by noon. So, worst case, we still got some time."

Roy had known all of this, having been involved in the planning himself, but he simply nodded again, watching him. With how much of a mess the country still was, the trains were still horrendously off schedule. Rather than get the brothers down to the train station only to potentially have to wait there, all but stranded, for hours, they'd decided that Al would wait there himself, and when their train was finally confirmed to be close, he'd call, and Roy would drive Ed in.

In his current state, being forced to wait in a cacophonous, packed, unpredictable, and claustrophobic train station would've just been a disaster waiting to happen.

So instead here they were, Roy and Ed left alone, waiting for Al's call that still had not come. Roy sighed again, casting a slow examination over Ed's blanket lump again, this time lingering on the little notebook as he pushed himself down into the nearest chair. "Are you ever going to tell us what you've been so busy with, in that thing?" he asked lightly, forcing a little smirk. "You've barely let go of it since you got here. Am I going to look into my study after you leave and find you've stolen half my books?"

Ed, however, did not respond to the gentle ribbing in the way that he'd hoped. He looked at him with a slow, almost dull sort of blink, rubbing at his tired eyes like it took him a moment to process the words. "No, all your stuff is on gaseous alchemy," he muttered after a moment, still rubbing his eyes. "I'm not interested in that at all."

"Not interested, perhaps, because it goes over your h-..." Roy blinked himself, smirk fading as he actually processed what had been said, mulling the words over in his head. He grappled with then for a moment, understanding slowly growing- then turned to stare at him in disbelief. "Fullmetal, did you _decode my notes?"_

This time, it was Ed's turn to smirk a little. Tired, small, but a genuine expression of smug contentment all the same. "I was bored," was all he said, sinking back into his pillow even more with obvious amusement.

At Roy's expense, of course.

After several stunned moments, he found himself just shaking his head, at a loss to even try and question him as to why or _how_ on earth he'd pulled it off. If anyone could manage it, Ed could. "Right," he grumbled, surly, propping his head up on his hand. "And you didn't answer my first question."

Ed, however, did not get as tripped up by this as he'd hoped. The kid simply shut the notebook in his lap to hug it to his chest protectively, hiding it within the folds of the blankets and averting his eyes down to it. "Yeah, and you'll find out. Some day.'

"So you reading into my secrets doesn't win me the right to read a little into yours, then?"

Ed smirked a little again, still hugging his notebook. "It's not my fault your code was so easy to crack."

Roy frowned but remained silent, this time, willing to let that brewing argument lapse into silence. He knew he could trust Ed to keep whatever secrets he'd read, and knew Ed hadn't read into his notebooks with any sense of malice. Beyond that, he was simply too stressed and too tired, nowadays, to care.

And, by the way Ed was now slipping back into his blankets, again refusing to look at him as he curled around himself and hunched his shoulders, plainly awkward in the sudden, stretching silence- so was he. He was always stressed. He was always tired.

Roy sighed into the silence. A sense of finality settled quietly throughout the space between them as he watched the withdrawn, frowning boy before him, chasing away the uncertainty and hesitation that had been biting at his every doubt about this for weeks.

It was time for them to stop avoiding it.

"Look, Ed," he said quietly, leaning forward to fold his hands between his knees and for his gaze to rest steadily right onto him. Ed did not really look back at him just yet, but that was okay. "I know we haven't really talked about- anything that's happened. And I understand that it's different now. It's... harder. But..." Roy rubbed a frustrated hand through his hair, still struggling to actually put the speech he'd had all planned out into words. "But if there's anything at all that I can help... I'm willing, Ed. Or- not just willing, but-... I suppose what I'm trying to say is that I think, after everything, we can both say we're a little past judging each other for it. If you need something... I know I'm still your superior officer, but if you need support- I can be that, too. All you have to do is say it."

Ed fidgeted uncomfortably again. He stared even harder at his lap, even more withdrawn than before, and said nothing.

The time since they'd gotten their memories back had been hard on both of them, and in more ways than one.

To Roy, it felt like being two people at once. There was just himself, the person that he was and had always been before this and that had been found again when Ed had dug him out that fateful day- and then there was the him that had developed in that hospital with Ed. The same, yes, but also so very _different_ it made his head spin, and it had taken weeks after that day to even try to get firm footing back as he tried to reconcile who he was meant to be with who he'd spent the last few months of his life actually being.

And his relationship with Ed had been more difficult to navigate than anything else.

With Maes, with Hawkeye, with his staff, with _everybody_ else, it was manageable. It was a battle he could at least fight. He knew exactly how he was supposed to act and the person he was supposed to be, and even if many days he faked it more than he truly felt genuine, he could at least pull off that much. He may have felt nervous, fragile, or on his worst days, unstable, but he always had a reference for how he knew Colonel Mustang would act. He knew he could rely on that until he'd clawed his way back to something resembling normalcy, or at least be able to rely on Hughes and his staff not to judge him for what he'd been knocked downwards and broken into now, no matter how ashamed he was of being it.

But Ed was the exception.

He didn't have that reference for Ed anymore, because Ed had been there _with him._

With everyone else he had a dynamic and role to remember and return to. With Ed he still had that, remembering their inherently supportive but argumentative, antagonistic relationship of months ago that had been dashed against the rocks in a split second by the whims of a brutal alchemist. He knew what they'd used to be and so did Ed.

And he also remembered what they'd grown into in the months after their whole lives had been stolen from them.

It was like having two different Roys and he didn't know which one he was supposed to _be,_ and Ed could see it, because he knew Ed felt the same way. And he couldn't blame him. Remembering some of what they'd been through now- god, parts of it didn't even feel like Ed anymore. He remembered carrying a half-conscious, bleeding, distraught boy throughout the city on his back. He remembered Ed clinging to him that long night in terror, barely even half-conscious if that but just aware enough to know he was scared and trust Roy to keep him safe.

Hell, _he_ remembered being the one to cling to _Ed_ , when he'd found his way to Hughes' home yet hadn't been able to trust anyone enough to let him go.

After all of that, there was no going back to what they'd once been.

There was no normal, anymore.

Ed continued to fidget for several long, silent moments, staring down at himself as little more than a blanketed lump. His face reddened a little and he still wouldn't look up at Roy, but it was plain that he had been heard. He hesitated for a breath, fist now slowly kneading a a frayed, loose thread with his bangs shadowing his eyes from view.

"I know," he sighed at last, voice small. "And I'm not saying no. But right now, it's..."

"Hard," Roy filled in simply.

He understood the feeling quite well, and by the look on Ed's face, he wasn't very far off at all.

The kid nodded a little, still avoiding his eyes. "...yeah," he mumbled. "The way things are, I think I just need some space. Find my footing again, I guess." He paused again, finally starting to worm himself a little more out of his sunken corner of the couch to try and at least stop looking so tiny and withdrawn- even if he still existed as little more than as a small shape under the blankets. Then, with a steady breath and a palpable effort, he finally looked up at Roy with those shadowed, tired eyes... and this time cracked a small smile along with it. "I won't leave you hanging, though. I promise, you'll start hearing from us eventually, at least over the phone... I mean, come on. You're telling me you'd really be all right without me around to prop you up, bastard?"

It took a moment for Roy to restrain his small, surprised smile at those words, just relieved to not have gotten an argument back, and instead temper it down into an annoyed frown. "I still can not believe that the one detail you remembered about me was that. Of all things, _that."_

"Should tell you something, shouldn't it?"

"About how much of an impolite, rude brat you are? Yes, actually, I'd say it should..."

Ed rolled his eyes amusedly but didn't answer to this, instead allowing silence to fall as he pushed himself up into a more confident position. It was a more comfortable silence than before, though, and Roy relaxed with it, too, slipping back into his chair again to rest his head back against his hand, once again using his thumb to hide a small smile.

"So about that phone call you promised, then," he said after a few moments. This should surely be easier, now that he'd finally gotten Ed to just _relax._ "Any idea when that'll come?"

To this, however, Ed immediately went silent again. His gold eyes flickered away for a heartbeat, landing back on his overpacked luggage, and he slumped a little once more.

Roy's own hopes dimmed a little.

"Ed," he tried again, softer now. "I know I've been lenient with it thus far, but, at some point, I'll really need to know. You'll be allowed a lot of leeway, since you have to get acclimated back to your automail, but someone will come asking eventually and I'll need to give them something more concrete than the promise of an eventual phone call." He paused again, staring determinedly across the room hard enough to trap Ed's gaze back on him, refusing to allow him to look away this time. "When do you think you're coming back, Ed?"

"...It's complicated."

 _"Complicated."_

"Yeah," Ed said shortly, sulking back into the couch again. "Complicated."

Roy gritted his teeth, trying to contain a frustrated sigh. And he'd thought he'd _just_ managed to get through to Ed that he didn't need to do this... well. It wasn't as if he could be surprised. Ed simply wouldn't be Ed if he wasn't provoking that small, irritated flame of impatience in his chest, as difficult to work with as a thorny bush and, always as stubborn as a damn mule... "Ed," he sighed again, "you're not going to be able to hide forever. It's more than this, even... the military is distracted for now, but sooner or later questions are going to come, questions that you'll want to be there to answer." He paused for a moment again, trying to tempt Ed until finally looking up and acknowledging him with that little, but when it did not work he pushed himself forward to stare at him with such a hard gaze he knew Ed would have no choice but to answer him. "How Justin died? How you- how you _didn't?_ Ed, I'm sorry, you deserve to not have to deal with any of this, but I can't protect you from it for very long. You _can't_ avoid this."

"And I told you that it's _complicated_ ," Ed snapped back, stiffening a little. Finally there with the first spark of angry, irascible fire in his eyes, of _life_ that beat away the exhaustion, but this time Roy was far too frustrated to take relief from it.

"Edward..."

Maes, god bless him, had been the saving grace of that day. Whatever the hell it was that had happened- because Roy still did not know, because Ed still would not explain it- Maes had worked his damage control the best he knew how and sworn as many of the witnesses to total secrecy as he could. So far, Roy had only gotten a few curious, non-official questions into the events of that day, and he'd been able to successfully deflect each and every one. Right now, there were just too many pressing matters that demanded the military's attention.

Roy wasn't so sure the reprieve was going to last.

He stared worriedly across the room to his subordinate again, this time his gaze lingering on his forehead, hidden by bangs but the spot still there. The unscarred, perfectly unblemished spot, where he knew Ed had been shot.

He'd seen it. He'd _seen_ it with his own two eyes. He'd seen Ed get shot in the head. The blood spraying over his skin, the bullet tearing through his brain, because as brilliant as that brain was he could be brought down and reduced to nothing by one tiny bullet same as the rest of them- he'd seen him fucking _die_ and he'd never felt anything like that in his life.

God, some nights, he _still_ saw it.

And then he'd saw him get up again.

He didn't understand it. As far as he knew, not even Al knew the full story, because Ed very clearly did not want to talk about, and Roy had not yet had the heart to make him.

He didn't know how much Ed remembered about that day, but merely from Roy's point of view, he'd had to live through being shot- being _killed-_ being possessed by some terrifying, alchemic force that he couldn't even begin to understand, then having that force turn him around to summarily execute his would-be murderer-

The Ed he knew wouldn't be okay with any part of that.

He wouldn't even be close to okay.

And Roy, for his part, would've more than willing to let him take his time with it and come to terms with what had happened in his own way, wanted nothing more than to protect him from the fallout and horror of that day, or at least try to cushion it's impact and dull it with time...

But he didn't know if they had that luxury.

All he did know was that he didn't want to take the risk of it.

Ed sighed stiffly again, worming a hand out of his blankets to pull at his braid instead, eyes downcast now. He opened his mouth several times, clearly wanting to say something but unsure how and looked more and more frustrated with himself as the silence dragged on, as if he knew _something_ had to change but didn't know how to do it himself. When that frustration grew and eclipsed into distress, through, the nervous shadows eating away at his eyes in a way that was just too familiar, Roy found himself pushing up out of his chair without a second though, to instead join Ed on the couch beside him.

"You don't have to tell me now," he said gently after several moments, daring to rest a hand on the loose, empty folds of the blanket. "In fact, you don't ever have to tell me, if you don't want to. And Maes will be able to deflect attention away from you for a long time. But I just wanted to warn you that at some point, this could catch up to you, and I don't know how much I'll be able to protect you from it. You deserve the opportunity to prepare yourself for it."

Ed was quiet again for a long time.

He didn't pull away from Roy's hand, though. It wasn't much, but- but, god, it was worth something, and _something_ was just what he would have to take.

In fact, he may have been imagining it- but he could've sworn he saw the kid shift just a little bit closer to him.

"You remember what happened the day we escaped, right?" Ed asked finally. His voice was even smaller than before, but steady, this time, and that alone was enough to reassure him. "How you found me, I mean?"

"I... yes. Of course." He hesitated, unsure how much he wanted to push or describe about that awful day. Sometimes, the Ed in his nightmares was _that_ Ed, the one he'd found unconscious yet not, eyes open but dead, trapped all alone in that tiny room for weeks. "...What about it?"

Ed grimaced, continuing to avoid his gaze with an aura of unease, now. "A lot of things happened then that I didn't understand at the time... I guess some of those answers, I'll never get, now. Good riddance," he muttered with a dark, almost violent glare. "But that's when... when all of this just... started."

Roy waited for several moments worriedly, wanting to neither rush him nor derail him with unnecessary questions, but when Ed did not go on, he allowed himself one slow, single nod. "I'm listening," he assured quietly, patting at the empty space under the blankets again.

Ed tensed a little again, hugging his notebook just a little bit tighter.

"That day was different from all the others," he admitted finally, eyes downcast and voice small. Almost too small for him to bear. "In what they wanted me to do, I mean. I... I think Justin knew he was running out of time. I guess Hughes was closing in, or the people he was working with wanted him to close up shop, I don't know... whatever it was, by the way he was talking, he was planning for that to be the last time. Because the array he gave me that day... it wasn't the usual one." He broke off for another moment, quietly struggling with whatever it was he had to say; his nervous eyes flickered over Roy again as if unsure if he wanted to or was even able to go on.

Roy was growing more and more convinced that wherever this was headed, he wasn't going to like it- and more and more relieved that at least the person who'd put that terrible look onto Ed's face was already dead.

"He gave me an array for human transmutation," Ed finally said, voice hushed and small in the silence of his suffocating silence of his apartment, and Roy's heart lurched to a stop.

 _Human transmutation?_

 _Human transmutation?!_

Justin had... had made Ed...

The very first night that he'd met Ed flickered through his mind, of a small home choked with misery and despair, one boy much too big and empty as just a soul, the other much too small and bloody and in many ways, empty as just a body. He remembered the crippled, destroyed child he'd met that night, and then, he remembered that night he'd found Ed, trembling and terrified and all alone in his cell.

His blood boiled with a white hot rage, and for a heartbeat his hands tensed as if his gloves were already on, itching with the urge to destroy.

"H-he... he _what?"_ he rasped, hand shaking from the empty folds of the blanket to Ed's shoulder, now, desperately trying to reassure himself. "He did _what_ to you?"

Ed looked away again, obviously shaken himself but trying to hide it, pulling anxiously on his braid in a nervous gesture. "I think he was honestly just curious what would happen. He never said anything that made me think he thought it would work, or he actually wanted me to bring someone back for him... he just wanted to see what would happen to someone that did it. ...I... I h-honestly hink he was planning on killing me either way and figured that would pull it off for him" He shrugged a little as if trying to blow it off as no big deal but the tenseness in his jaw belied the lie, and this time he didn't even try to pretend he wasn't leaning into Roy's hand. "Makes sense, I- I g-guess... he'd spent months breaking one of the fundamental laws of alchemy with no consequence whatsoever, so I... I guess he wanted to see what would happen when he broke the other one."

Roy's stomach dropped, and for several impossible, tense heartbeats, his throat was nearly too tight to even breathe.

Justin had made Ed try and use the array that had already torn his life apart.

Justin had... had tried to _kill_ him.

 _Again._

God, he should be dead, Roy realized, staring at him in horror. He should be dead twice over, not just from the day Justin had shot him in the head but first from _this._ He and Al would've died the first time, Al without a body and Ed bleeding to death in his empty house if Ed hadn't whipped out the quickest thinking and most dangerous array in all of recorded history. But there was nothing _missing,_ Roy thought as he stared over him frantically, like somehow he might've missed a torn off limb this whole time, he was totally and completely whole- but that wasn't possible-

"What did he take from you?" he rasped again, barely stopping himself from dragging the blanket back himself to search him over with his hand. "He took something from you- Fullmetal, he took something, w-what was-"

"You can relax, okay, bastard. Roy. I'm fine." Ed shrunk back a little with another tired sort of groan, finally letting go of his braid to rub at his eyes again. He seemed to be doing anything possible to continue avoiding looking at Roy. "Truth's not... he's fair. He might play by his own rules in deciding just what fair _is_ but he doesn't break those rules. And he decided that it wouldn't be fair to take something from me like that, not the way that I was. When I didn't have any choice in the matter and didn't even know what I was doing in the first place..." He breathed out a long, heavy sigh, this one tinted almost with something like defeat, and shut his eyes. "He said that for once in my life, I was innocent in it all. And that he didn't want to take a price from someone innocent."

Terror clenched tightly in his chest again, tightening away his breaths into shallow, tense little gasps as he stared over Ed, still searching him for even the slightest sign that he might have been unwell. _Innocent?_ So this Truth had taken mercy on him that night, but not been merciful on two young children who just wanted their mother back? But... it _had_ to be true... it was obvious that no toll had been paid. At least, not one that Roy could see. "So you got out of it unscathed...?" he murmured doubtfully, still eying him all over. "He didn't take _anything_ from you?"

"...Not exactly."

Roy's jaw tightened.

Ed's wary eyes finally jerked over to meet his again, still nervous but finally holding his gaze, turning under his hand to fully face him at last. "Look, don't say anything about this to Al yet, okay? I'm- I'm going to talk to him. But I wanted to wait until we were home, a-and, he _doesn't_ know yet, and he can't hear about it from anyone but me. He'll..." He swallowed hard, throat jumping and eyes suddenly lit with an anxious light, the one that made him look younger and smaller and reminded him so much of the tortured child he'd met in that hospital. "Please don't tell him," he said at last, voice dwindling even smaller, and Roy never could've had the heart to say no.

"Of course not. Of course I won't," he promised quietly. Al deserved to know, far more than he did, but it wasn't Roy's place to prompt that discussion. He knew part of Ed was still ashamed of what he'd been through, embarrassed to even say it. It was different with Roy, who already knew, who'd seen it, who'd been through so much of the same by his side- but Al had not. It was understandable that Ed would not want him to know.

And that was already discounting just how much this particular story would terrify his brother...

It was no wonder Al hadn't been told yet.

But Roy didn't know it, either, and right now, Roy was far too worried about what might have happened, what could've been _stolen_ from Ed, to even try to press that discussion for even one second longer.

"...we made a deal," Ed said finally, again turning his head away to try and shadow and hide his eyes with his hair. "Well. Truth did. I didn't really have a choice. But the Gate... it doesn't really work like that. Truth couldn't just unilaterally decide not to take anything form me. I still had to go through the Gate and the Gate _always_ takes something. That's it. There's no way around it. So he had to take _something_ from me, and that day... he decided he was going to take the only thing that he could to try and make this right. Equivalent." He broke off for another hesitant moment, working his fingers again through his hair. "He decided he was going to take my free will."

Roy, midway through slowly squeezing Ed's shoulder, carefully maintaining his own silence so Ed could tell this story in his own way, jerked to a stop. He managed one stunned, amazingly ineloquent splutter.

Truth had _what?_

"It's- it's not as bad as it sounds," Ed tried weakly, but his attempt at a smile fell flat and the shadows that so frequently chased his eyes these days were now back and in full force. "I think Truth knew something like that day at HQ was going to happen. He told me there was going to come a time when equivalence could be balanced again through me, and when that time came, he was going to do it, and then the deal was over. Once he'd acted against Justin and anyone else complicit in how he'd tried to cheat the Gate, then our deal would be ended. It's not like I've given him carte blanche to break any time for the rest of my life. There was an expiration date, I just didn't know when it'd be back then."

The disturbingly blase, almost determinedly non-effected way Ed spoke flew in the face of sanity, and for a moment Roy barely even knew what to think. He shook his head several times, staring blankly down at him in utter disbelief, then found himself abruptly battling with the sudden urge to just draw him into a relieved hug. "S-so _that's_ what happened that day," he fumbled weakly, forcing himself to settle for just squeezing his shoulder instead. "The way you just... that _thing_ you turned into. It was him. It was the deal you made."

Again, the kid gave him a small, restrained little nod. He began to relax a little, easing slightly more into his hand as his face eased into something just a little more understanding. He seemed relieved now that he'd finally gotten that much of it out, like a great weight had finally been eased off his shoulders, and in that long-awaited easing of tension that had for so long shadowed him like an invisible anchor Roy finally realized that he was the first person Ed had managed to tell this story to. He'd been carrying this around with him for months, even the weeks he'd been quiet and withdrawn here after getting his memory back- and this was the first time he'd been able to have anybody listen to him for it.

This time, Roy actually did shift closer to him, drawing a warm arm around his blanketed shoulders to gently press him against his side. Ed made a small, restrained noise in his throat, his next breath shuddering, and close his eyes tightly for a moment as he evidently fought to regain control of himself.

"It's done now, then?" he asked quietly, when Ed finally felt a little calmer against him. "You know he can't ever just... take over you like that again?"

Ed gave another little nod, the motion brushing gently against his arm as he let out a second shuddering breath as a nervous sigh. "It's done. I'm sure of it. He got everything he wanted out of it." There was another moment of hesitation, the alchemist bowing his head a little to stare down into his lap, troubled and quietly distressed and not even trying to hide it anymore. "I mean, I'm not _happy_ he used me to kill people... I fucking hate it. I hate that I remember just- just pulling the trigger and seeing his face as he died. No matter what he did to us I hate knowing that. But I couldn't have stopped him if I'd tried. I had no more control over myself during that than I could've controlled you."

"You're... you're _sure,_ then?" Roy pressed. He knew Ed probably would give anything to just drop it, but he could not help himself. The quiet fear collecting around his heart would not be sated until he was just as sure as Ed evidently was that this was _over._ "Did he say something to you, or-?"

"Yes, Roy, I'm _sure,"_ Ed cut in exasperatedly, now huffing at him with a stubborn sort of glare that burned over the quiet memory of uncertain fear that continued to flicker darkly in his eyes. "I know because I wouldn't have my memory back otherwise. That was always the deal, bastard. I'd have to go through the Gate again, and in exchange Truth got his payment. Our deal wasn't settled until Truth got everything I owed him, and until then I didn't wasn't going to get what I earned, either. What I got from the Gate. " He glared at him sullenly again, sulking under his arm still without pulling away, hair still shadowing his eyes and face stuck in a stubborn sort of frown. "The array that I used that was on you, that got your memories back- mine was activated all the way back then in the Gate. I just wasn't allowed the benefits from it until I'd paid my toll in full. And... and after he used me that day, I had." He huffed as he looked away again, shaking his head vehemently in exasperation and still frowning still hunched over, still all but sulking. "Whatever the hell he was talking about, looking forward to seeing us again... that was something different. I don't know what it was, and I don't have _any_ idea what you have to do with it or why he was talking about you, but- it's not from this. _This_ deal is done."

He broke off there for a moment again, still glaring into the his lap and strangely young face still tensed and shadowed. He opened his mouth, seeming about to spit something angry out once more, then abruptly went quiet. His shoulders slumped, and his face just fell.

"...Sorry," he mumbled after a couple of thick, worried seconds. He swallowed hard again, voice wavering, and sent one brief, nervous flicker of a glance up at Roy before he leaned back into his shoulder, half-hiding his face against his arm. His voice was small again, dwindled back down to become quiet and almost meek, and he shrunk back, stubborn petulance morphing into withdrawn misery with little more than a breath. "I've been... worrying a lot about that. I mean. Like I said. The deal is paid and _done,_ and I know it is, h-he's not coming back, but I... I can't help but..."

"You can't help but think that he's going to come back," Roy finished for him quietly.

This time, it took a few more seconds, but Ed finally answered him with one small, silent nod.

And Roy, with a miserable sense of trepidation, finally understood.

This was why Ed had been... like _this_ for weeks. The whole time that he'd been here- and this was why.

It wasn't just the trauma of what he'd been through- as if that was not wholly enough on its own and then some.

It was the fear of Truth coming back.

This time, Roy could not help himself from drawing his arm tighter around him to pull the trembling alchemist into a tight, close hug. Ed stiffened at first, going tense against his side, but after a silent breath of silence finally just _melted,_ all but collapsing to wrap his one arm back around him and bury it into his shoulder.

"He k-kept saying he was going to see us again," he choked out desperately, "he kept saying he was going to come _back,"_ his voice even tinier than before, and Roy could do nothing but hold him tighter.

There was no promise of protection that Roy could give that would be meaningful. He couldn't protect him from this, and Ed knew it.

After all, Truth had made the same promise to him: he was going to see him again someday.

He was going to come _back._

And they did not know what that meant. They did not know _why_ the force of all rhyme and reason in their world had announced that he, Edward, and Alphonse were all going to see him again, and soon- but they both knew that, here and now, any promises that Roy made to stop it would be lies.

All he could do, instead, was this.

It was all he'd been able to do for months in that hospital, and even now, months after they'd escaped it... somehow, it was still all he had.

And it was enough.

It _had_ to be.

"You'll be okay, Ed," he assured him quietly, running a hand down his shaking back. "Whatever happens, you'll get through it. I know you will." Ed had already made it through this much, he'd made it through objectively _worse_ when he'd had nothing, not even his own memories, not even his own _brother_ to rely on- just his own strength and Roy. If he'd made it this far with that little, he knew that whatever was to come, he'd make it through that, too.

Roy was sure of it.

"You won't have to answer any questions about this that you don't want to," he promised after a long silence, only forging forwards when he had felt Ed start to finally relax fully against him, shuddering breaths fading into something that he could control. "Maes and I will be able to distract from it for as long as we have to."

Ed managed a short, shaken little nod. He was still at first, perfectly unmoving against him, but then, with another shuddering breath, pushed gently at his shoulder to withdraw, settling back into his own space instead. "Thanks," he mumbled awkwardly, eyes downcast again, but the uncomfortable and unsettled air from before was gone, and Roy knew that was all he could hope for

"You can stay in Risembool for as long as you need to, as well," he told him, and this, he meant, too. It would look better for him if all his subordinates were ship shape and ready to help in the aftermath of this crisis, but as far he was concerned, this was more than worth the hit to his reputation. "It's going to take the military a long while to get around to wondering where you're at, with all the trials and infrastructure and PR we've got to get started on... they won't be after you for a long while. And even then they'll want to examine you before they really let you come back. You'll have more than enough time."

The words were meant to just be a passing comfort, assure him absentmindedly that he had more than enough time to heal before he even had to worry about any of this. To remind him of how much bureaucracy and irrelevant paperwork and red hoops were between him and having to return, that even when the questions started coming he'd be able to stall for however long he needed until he was truly ready to come back so he had nothing he needed to worry about.

But it was to these words that Ed, again, stiffened.

It was slight, just a small tenseness in his shoulders and new darkness in his eyes, but after everything that they had been through together, Roy knew him better than he knew himself, and he saw the sudden uneasiness before he'd even fully realized what it was. His own spirits fell a little, tempered by the suddenly withdrawn look on his face, and he again found himself thinking very carefully about what he was going to say next.

It wasn't hard for him to predict, after all, just why those words had prompted that look on his face.

"It won't be anything bad," he promised slowly, gently rubbing a hand down his arm again. "I'll have to have it done before you, so I'll be able to tell you what it'll be like... trust me, they'll just want to make sure you're healthy enough to take missions. Probably just the same physical the Rockbells will give you at home, maybe another certification test, just to make sure your alchemy is still solid, and then an interview or two with a psychiatrist. That's all."

This explanation did not relax the tense, withdrawn form by his side, small and with a fist now clutching anxiously somewhere in-between the blankets and Roy's sleeve.

In fact, it did not even come close.

Roy didn't find himself very surprised by this, either.

"...it won't be that bad, Ed," he assured quietly, shifting around a little so he could look down to meet Ed's nervous, flitting gaze with his own, hand slipping around from his shoulder to gently nudge his face into looking back up at him. "I promise you, it's only standard. They'd do it for anyone in our positions... it's more of a formality than anything. That's all. You can even have it done in my office if you like. And they won't be able to even do anything to you... _worst_ case, they'll just ask you to spend a little longer on vacation. That'll be _all_ that they can make you do." He broke off for a tense moment, searching his withdrawn, haunted face, trying to find _something_ in there that was willing to listen, open to being reassured. "They can't do anything to you that you don't want them to. I _promise_... even if they could, I wouldn't let them."

Because it was no question that that was what he was afraid of.

He'd simply spent too long being controlled, stripped of his freedom and agency, and hurt by a pack of psychiatrists that told him he had no choice- that it was for his own _good-_ to trust anybody who came to him with such words again.

Roy, at least, had something to compare to it. After Kimbley's psychotic break years ago had cost the military dozens of lives, more than one officer, and a public relations nightmare, they'd at least started going through the motions with the rest of their State Alchemists to try and catch the next violent psychopath before they'd need a combat team to do so. Roy knew what to expect and the right things to say. Ed, because Ed ha been shielded by most such protocols by his young age and Roy himself for years, did not. Ed had every right to want to run from it with every fiber of his being.

But, Roy's attempts at reassuring him, were also clearly not working.

Ed kept his eyes averted from him for a long time, shoulders hunched just a little like he was trying to hide his face yet not doing a very good job at it. Roy wasn't sure what more to say, how else to try and convince him it was going to be okay, and swiftly decided that there just wasn't any words at all. Ed was too smart for empty platitudes to be what was needed. He knew there was too little that Roy could actually control with his own hands, too much that the military might decide that Roy could not stop. All that would put Ed's worries at ease would be actually going through the process himself, and coming out of it whole on the other side.

At least- that was what Roy had thought.

And as such, he had not been prepared for Ed's next words in the slightest.

"...a-actually?" the kid mumbled. He wrapped his arm around himself a little tighter, as if wanting to shrink back to hide or perhaps just melt into the floor and disappear entirely. He took another breath, this one fighting to steady itself and strengthen his voice, then pushed himself up just a little, just barely turning his gaze back to Roy. "Actually, I'm... not so sure I'm coming back."

Roy, midway through another attempt to come up with _something_ calming to say, found his brain stuttering directly to a halt.

Ed fidgeted a little. After a long stretch of an impossible silence, he coughed and looked away again, like he just couldn't take the scrutiny anymore, continuing to alternately pull at loose threads and his braid. Roy still did not know what to say.

"And," he finally managed, every sword careful and every gesture tense, "why exactly would that be?"

Ed shrunk back just a little more.

"You know the whole reason I joined at all was to find a philosopher's stone for Al," he muttered, still picking at threads, still staring pointedly away. He curled up again, all still without shrugging off Roy's arm. "Well, going through the Gate doesn't just take things from you. Tt gives you knowledge, too. ...well, I've been through it three times, now. And from all that I've learned, I'm not so sure that the stone is even real. Or if it is, it's got a price higher than Al and I would be willing to pay."

Roy's eyes narrowed, suspicion and caution still eating greedily at the edges of his mind, a heavy shadow casting over his heart. "What do you mean?" There was something here that Ed wasn't saying, he could hear it in his quiet, almost stifled voice alone...

"I'm not... sure, exactly." Ed shook his head a little, frown deepening. "I haven't been able to fully think through it yet. But a philosopher's stone is cheating the Gate- that's what it is. And you saw just like me what happens if you try to do that. Truth _always_ gets even. So either the stone does not exist, or whatever it is that goes into the stone makes it equivalent. If the stone does exist... I can already tell you it's not worth it to me and Al. We have a line and whatever is in that damn thing crosses it."

"But that's not..." With a frustrated shake of his head, Roy pushed himself back a little himself so he could get a better look at Ed's face, narrowing his eyes to search for the truth, because what Ed was telling him _wasn't._ "That's not a reason to leave. Even if you're giving up on the stone I know you're not giving up on a way to get your bodies back. There's some array out there and you can find it. Ed, if- if you're worried about working with us after all that's happened, I can understand that, but at least don't lie to me about this."

 _I can't protect you if you don't let me,_ was what he meant at heart, and he knew that Ed heard that part of it, too. Every word.

Because Ed quickly sulked again, this time with a more petulant sort of reluctant smile than before, the tired tension in his jaw fading for his gaze to dart back up to him again. "You're too smart for your own good, you know that, bastard?"

Roy smiled a little himself, patting his shoulder again. "No, Ed, I'm afraid that that is you. I'm just barely clever enough to keep up when you decide to go off running circles around the rest of us."

The kid huffed this time, rolling his eyes in exasperation. "Yeah, whatever, bastard," he said easily, but this time, his grin quickly faded, sobering back into a distant stare as uncertainty shadowed across his tired face again. He looked so young again, so small and young that he just might've seemed to be the child that he really was, and somehow, at the same time, old beyond his years. Old, and jaded, and so, so tired.

"I don't have everything concrete yet," he finally told him carefully, averting his eyes. "It's actually what I've been working out this whole time, and no I won't show it to you, because it's not done yet. But after going through the Gate again... talking with Truth... it got me thinking, and I- well it gave me an idea." He hesitated again, chewing anxiously on his lower lip, suddenly hugging his notebook back close to him in an unconscious gesture of privacy, as if he was afraid of it being stolen and read before he was ready for it. "It's just an idea, I haven't committed to anything yet, just an idea, that's all... I, um... I haven't even told Al yet." He shrugged, lowering his eyes as a hint of color warmed his cheeks with a nervous heat that he'd never have seen from Ed before, but that their ordeal had forced into him and hadn't let go. "I don't want to get his hopes up if I'm wrong."

Roy searched him carefully again, examining the tense light of his eyes even as he battled the sudden emotion in his own chest, the twin rises of excitement coupled with something unhappier- something closer to apprehension. "You don't think you're wrong, though."

"...No."

There was another short silence. This time, the look on his face egged on the apprehension tightening in his throat before the excitement, and his own smile faded into a thin line.

The fact that Ed was not cheering for joy right now, bragging about his array, and all but jumping at the chance to try that array out right this second could only mean one thing.

"Edward," he told him quietly. Not gently, this time, but with a quiet hint of steel underneath his name, a hint of steel that he would translate into a grip of one on his wrist, if he tried to protest still. The one thing that he was sure of was that the boy was not going anywhere on his watch, now, not until he _knew_ it was safe. God, if Ed was really considering this... if he'd _really_ been sketching such a nightmarish array out for weeks... "Alphonse will not want you to get him his body back in exchange for your own life. And if you try to rationalize it to yourself otherwise, I _will_ tell him about this, and stop you."

An upset, revulsed sort of look shuddered across Ed's face, expression contorting for a heartbeat as he shook his head hard, messy hair swishing over his face with something close to a groan. "N-no. I- I- _no._ I w-would- would _never-"_

"I've already told you once today, Fullmetal: don't lie to me."

Ed shuddered violently again, but this time it was shame twisting his face as he ducked his head, trying to hide it, but Roy knew him too well to fall for it. He tried to shrink away, again averting his gaze, but this time Roy did not let him go.

"I-" he half-choked, then groaned again, desperately rubbing at his face with a shaking hand. "Okay, I've _thought_ about it. Or- or used to. When I was younger. B-but just as a, a l-last resort- and that wasn't even what I meant now!"

"It's not a last resort. _Nobody,_ least of all your brother, wants you to die for this. _None_ of us would accept that even if it was the only way."

"Well _fine_ , then, because that wasn't even what I was talking about! I'm not fucking crazy, Roy, I may be pretty fucking messed up right now b-but I'm _not_ crazy! I would _never_ do that to Al!" He shook his head frantically, eyes all but wild as he just shook his head over and over again, breaths stuttering and that hand still hugging his notebook to his chest so tight his knuckles were white. "I- t-they took Al away from _me_ and I nearly couldn't do it and I didn't even know what I was missing. They took him away from me a-and, and Al thought- he didn't know where I was or if I was okay and he's _told me_ how scared he was, I see it in him all the time, he doesn't want to even let me out of his sight- he doesn't even want me to go back into the military either! He doesn't have to say it, I know he doesn't! He's s-so... so _worried_ about me, a-all the time now, I- and I can't fix it- I'd _never_ hurt him like that, n-not again, never again, I'd- I-"

He stumbled over the frantic runaway train of his speech with another gasped whimper, wiping his eyes now as he shook his head back and forth and fought to keep on speaking but his voice splintered and shattered apart irrecoverably.

Once again it was little more than simple instinct for regret to clench around Roy like a cloak, tightening around him until it hurt to breathe, and for him to pull Ed back close to his side.

And oh, he did regret it now. He did regret ever even floating the possibility.

He should've trusted Ed enough to know that he wouldn't do that. Not because Ed valued his own life enough, or didn't value his brother's body more than enough to give up everything for it- but because he knew what it would cost those around him if he did it.

He knew Al would never be happy for it.

No... it was more than that, Roy realized as Ed trembled against him, eyes squeezed shut as he heaved in shallow breath after shallow breath, shuddering as if with the shock of it, the own memory of what he'd been through and what it had put Al through because of it.

Because what they'd been through together had shown Ed that it wasn't just Al who cared about him anymore. The brothers had always, in some ways, been alone. They'd had each other, and for a long time, that had been enough- and that had been all.

But having it all stripped away had showed that that wasn't true anymore.

For either of them.

Hughes and Hawkeye and his team; they'd all been there for Ed even when Ed hadn't remembered them, they had more than proven themselves as ironclad friends who cared for him and wouldn't stop supporting him no matter what. And in a way, what had happened had proved that in Roy, too, a hundred times over.

Ed might not have valued his own life enough, but he did value theirs. And that, Roy knew, was what was most important.

He remembered from his own dangerous flirtations with a dangerous array, a wish to make everything right, and correct for a sin for which he could still never atone for, many, many years ago. He remember that Hawkeye wresting the gun or chalk out of his hands hadn't been what had stopped him, nor had it been Maes in desperation, tearfully shouting that it wasn't his fault and that it would get better, that he'd been worth more than _this..._

It'd been the realization that, no matter how little he cared for his own life back in those darkest of days- how much he might've believed he didn't deserve to live- he would tear his friends' lives apart even more than they already had been. That there was at least something he could do to make things right while he was still alive and he didn't deserve the easy way out, and his friends didn't deserve what what would do to them, either.

And Ed had that now, too.

He knew it wasn't just Al that would be devastated if something were to happen to him.

It was the one slim positive, from all the torment they had survived through together, and while it wasn't even close to worth it- it was going to have to be enough, Roy determined, pulling Ed just a little closer to his side again.

For Ed to know he had people to support him now, and to have that to hang on to even with his faith in the philosopher's stone fading while his conviction to restore his brother was not...

That was enough.

"There is a toll," Ed whispered finally into his shoulder. His voice was tiny, almost hushed entirely, but still steady. Still _there._ "There is a payment that I'd have to give, but it's not my life."

Roy was quiet for a moment, saying nothing, listening to the still unsteady breathing hitching every so often against his side. "And would Al agree that the payment is worth it?" he asked at length, holding himself still.

Again, there was a long silence.

"I don't know," Ed admitted at last. "I... I'm going to wait to ask. I want to make sure it'll work first, before I tell anyone. I don't think I can ask Al about it until then. But... I will. I know you're worried about me, and I guess I c-can't stop you... but I won't do anything before telling him. I know I can't do this alone- that I can't do that to any of you."

For a heartbeat, Roy found himself biting back the strange urge to laugh. As if Ed could really forge his way ahead alone anyway. As if they would let that happen. Instead, he merely shook his head slightly, allowing himself a faint smile, and squeezed the arm around his shoulders again.

Only for Ed to abruptly pull away.

"Hey," the kid said suddenly, and his eyes were focusing on him again with a steady, new strength that they hadn't had before. "Hey, um. I know this is all- none of this is concrete yet, I guess, I don't even know if this'll work, I don't even know if I _can_ leave the military yet, but I- if it does all work out. Well, you know Al's my first priority, but... it goes both ways, bastard. If I'm gonna be calling you to ask you what you think about what I'm doing, you're gonna be calling me if you ever need something. Okay?" He prodded him hard in the arm, smile still a little unsteady and eyes still haunted with the perpetual shadow of wariness and fear- but his voice was steady and true, and his smile was genuine all the same. "I know you've got plans, I know you've got things you want to do, too, and you can't pull them off alone. So you're not leaving me behind, either. You got that? I'm showing up when you need help, because you _will,_ and I don't care how many excuses or deflections you try to send me away with. You don't get to try and take care of me and Al now without realizing that it goes both ways, bastard."

Roy started, blinking at the prod to his arm, then again at the warm smile, and then yet again at the sudden, confident words that had quite cleanly shattered through every attempt he'd made to focus and orient this conversation around Ed. He stared back at him, for just a heartbeat left breathless to that warm, familiar confidence before him and utterly without words to the light jab tied in with the promise of support- the support he'd been so busy trying to give, he hadn't remembered that Ed wasn't the only one who was going to need it.

And then, like a switch had been flipped, or perhaps just broken in his brain, he laughed.

He started laughing, quietly and gently but he just couldn't stop, and smiled right back and nodded, shifting around to pull Ed back into his side again. "All right," he chuckled weakly back, squeezing him gently as he leaned his head up against Ed's. "You've got it, Fullmetal." He squeezed him again, absently wiping at his eyes with one wavering hand as something that had been coiled tight, tight, and tighter in his chest, tight when he'd woken up a stranger in a hospital and tighter with every day that he'd spent there suffering and Ed suffering with him, tighter every day that he'd gone still a stranger in his own head- and with Ed's words to him now, finally, it loosened. He rolled his eyes again as Ed pushed lightly at his arm, not a rejection but instead of a gesture of affection, in his own way, and squeezed him back. "You've got it."

Soon after this, Roy knew, they were going to go their separate ways. He was going to stay here, and Ed was going to go back to Risembool with his brother, and for a long time, that was the way it was going to be. They were both going to stay and heal with their friends and family, in the only homes they knew, because for now, that was what they needed.

But Ed had a home here with him, and Roy knew now that he, too, had one with Ed. And when Ed called him in the coming weeks and months, telling him how he was healing, his plans were with Al, the military, the future, and when Roy would some day call him, and tell him that he needed his help- he knew Ed would answer that call. Just as Roy would answer his.

They had lost everything, together.

And now, dragging each other across the finish line inch by inch, scar by scar, months and months of suffering and being lost and without so much as a friendly hand with which to pull themselves up with in the dark... they had gotten it all back.

And more.


End file.
